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IKVINGIANA: 


A   MEMORIAL 


OF 


WASHINGTON     IRVING 


—  Tread  lightly  on  his  ashes,  ye  men  of  genius, — 
for  he  was  your  kinsman  : 

Weed  his  grave  clean,  ye  men  of  goodness, — for  he 
was  your  brother. 

TRISTRAM  SHANDT,  CHAP.  CLXXXVI. 


NEW  YOKE: 

CHAELES    B.  EICHARDSON. 
1860. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1859, 

By  CHARLES  B.  BICHARDSO:^, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


CONTENTS. 


I.  MEMORANDA  OF  THE  LITERARY  CAREER  OF  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

BY  EVERT  A.  DUYCKINCK » 5 

Original  Letter  from  Mr.  Irving  concerning  his  Birth-place — Eeminiscences  of  Allston — 
Knickerbocker  and  its  Reception— Life  of  Campbell — Passages  from  Moore's  Diary 
— John  Neal's  Blackwood  Criticism — "Columbus"  and  the  Spanish  Books — Mr. 
Brevoort's  Notes — Preface  to  Mr.  Bryant's  Poems — Letter  to  "  The  Plaindealer" — 
Speech  at  the  Irving  Dinner — History  of  "Astoria" — Life  of  Washington — Copy 
rights — Artist  Friends — A  Traveller's  Visit  to  the  Alhambra — Characteristics. 

II.  THE  FUNERAL  OF  WASHINGTON  IRVING.     BY  W.  FRANCIS  WILLIAMS....  22 

The  Scene  at  Tarrytown — Church  Services — The  Procession. 

III.  PROCEEDINGS  OF  THE  NEW  YORK  BOARD  OF  ALDERMEN  AND 

COUNCILMEN 26 

THE  MAYOR'S  MESSAGE  AND  RESOLUTIONS. 

IV.  RESOLUTIONS  OF  THE  ATHENAEUM  CLUB 28 

SPEECH  OF  THE  REV.  DR.  OSGOOD. 

V.  PROCEEDINGS  OF  THE  NEW  YORK  HISTORICAL  SOCIETY 29 

REMARKS  OF  THE  HON.  LUTHER  BRADISH. 

ADDRESS  OF  PRESIDENT  KING. 

ADDRESS  OF  MR.  GEORGE  BANCROFT. 

CHARACTERISTICS  OF  WASHINGTON  IRVING,  THE  ADDRESS  OF  DR.  JOHN  W.  FRANCIS. 

VI.  PROCEEDINGS  OF  THE  MASSACHUSETTS  HISTORICAL  SOCIETY 36 

ADDRESS  OF  HENRY  W.  LONGFELLOW. 
MR.  EVERETT'S  ADDRESS. 
LETTER  FROM  GEORGE  SUMNER. 

VII.  SUNNYSIDE.    A  POEM.     BY  HENRY  THEODORE  TUCKERMAN 40 

VIII.  WASHINGTON  IRVING.     AN  EDITORIAL  OF  THE  EVENING  POST 40 

IX.  THE  LATE  WASHINGTON  IRVING.     AN  EDITORIAL  OF  Tins  RICHMOND  (S.  I.) 

GAZETTE 41 

X.  MR.  IRVING'S  RELIGIOUS  CHARACTER.    BY  THE  REV.  DR.  CREIGHTON 42 

XL  PASSAGE  FROM  A  DISCOURSE  BY  THE  REV.  JOHN  A.  TODD 43 

XII.  THE  REV.  DR.  CHAPIN'S  REMARKS 44 

XIII.  POSTHUMOUS  INFLUENCE.     A  PASSAGE  FROM  A  DISCOURSE  BY  THE  REV.  DR. 

WILLIAM  F.  MORGAN 44 


M5055S1 


CONTENTS. 


XIV.  GOLDSMITH  AND  IRVING.    BY  GEORGE  WASHINGTON  GREENE 4G 

XV.  IRVING  DESCRIBED  IN  VERSE.    BY  JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL 46 

XVI.  VISITS  TO  SUNNYSIDE.    BY  N.  P.  WILLIS 47 

Sunnyside  in  the  Summer  of  1857 — A  Drive  through  Sleepy  Hollow — A  Later  Visit, 
in  1859 — A  Memorandum  or  Two  made  after  attending  Mr.  Irving's  Funeral. 

XVII.  HALF  AN  HOUR  AT  SUNNYSIDE.    BY  THEODORE  TILTON 50 

XVIII.  A  DAY  AT  SUNNYSIDE.    BY  OSMOND  TIFFANY 53 

XIX.  ANECDOTE  OF  WASHINGTON  IRVING 54 

XX.  WASHINGTON  IRVING.    BY  GEORGE  WILLIAM  CURTIS 55 

XXI.  WASHINGTON  IRVING.    BY  FREDERICK  S.  COZZENS 56 

XXII.  TABLE-TALK.     BY  JAMES  GRANT  WILSON 58 

XXIII.  ANECDOTES.    BY  FREDERICK  SAUNDERS 59 

XXIV.  ICHABOD  CRANE.    A  LETTER  FROM  WASHINGTON  IRVING 59 

XXV.  COCKLOFT  HALL.    A  REMINISCENCE 60 

XXVI.  IRVING  PORTRAITS 61 

XXVII.  MR.  IRVING'S  OBJECTION  TO  PUBLIC  DINNERS 62 

XXVIII.  ANECDOTE  OF  WASHINGTON  IRVING.     FROM  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  TIMES..  62 
XXIX.  TWO  POEMS  BY  WASHINGTON  IRVING 63 

XXX.  AMERICAN  LITERARY  COMMISSIONS  IN  LONDON  IN  1822.      AN  ORIGI 
NAL  LETTER  BY  WASHINGTON  IRVING 63 

XXXI.  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  IRVING  . .  .64 


ILL  USTRA  TION8. 

I.  ORIGINAL  PORTRAIT  SKETCH  OF  WASHINGTON  IRVING  AT  SUNNYSIDE,  IN 
JULY,  1848.    DRAWN  FROM  LIFE  BY  FELIX  O.  C.  DARLEY,  AND  ENGRAVED  BY  SMILLIE. 

II.  FAG  SIMILE  PAGE  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPT  OF  THE  SKETCH  BOOK.  A  LEAF 
OF  "Rip  VAN  WINKLE,"  FROM  THE  ORIGINAL  IN  THE  POSSESSION  OF  J.  CARSON 
BREVOORT,  ESQ. 


EBRATA.— p.  xiii,  in  lines  at  bottom  dele  "  And ;"  for  "  foeman,"  read  "  soldier ;"  for  "  heard,"  read  "  told." 
iv 


IRVINGIANA: 


A  MEMORIAL  OP  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 


MEMORANDA    OF    THE    LITERARY    CA 
REER  OF  WASHINGTON  IRVING.* 

BY   EVEET   A.  DUYCKIXCK. 

WASHINGTON  IBVIXG  was  born  April  3,  1783, 
in  the  city  of  New  York.  As  there  has  been 
some  little  discussion  as  to  the  particular  spot  of 
his  birth,  it  may  not  be  amiss,  writing  for  an 
historical  magazine,  to  produce  the  following 
decisive  testimony  on  the  subject. 

In  a  letter,  the  original  of  which  is  before  us, 
to  Mr.  Henry  Panton,  dated  Sunnyside,  Feb.  15, 
1850,  Mr.  Irving  states  precisely  the  place  of  his 
birth.  "The  house  in  which  I  was  born  was 
No.  131  William-street,  about  half-way  between 
John  and  Fulton  streets.  Within  a  very  few 
weeks  after  my  birth  the  family  moved  into  a 
house  nearly  opposite,  which  my  father  had 
recently  purchased;  it  was  No.  128,  and  has 
recently  been  pulled  down  and  a  large  edifice 
built  on  its  site.  It  had  been  occupied  by  a 
British  commissary  during  the  war ;  the  broad 
arrow  was  on  the  street  door,  and  the  garden 
was  full  of  choice  fruit-trees,  apricots,  green 
gages,  nectarines,  &c.  It  is  the  first  home  of 
which  I  have  any  recollection,  and  there  I  passed 
my  infancy  and  boyhood." 

Mr.  Irving  was  the  youngest  son  of  a  merchant 
of  the  city,  William  Irving,  a  native  of  Scotland, 
of  an  ancient  knightly  stock,  who  had  married 
Sarah  Sanders,  an  English  lady,  and  been  settled 
in  his  new  country  some  twenty  years. 

A  newspaper  correspondent  a  few  years  since 
narrated  an  anecdote  of  this  early  period,  of  a 
pleasing  character,  which,  unlike  many  things 
of  the  kind,  has,  we  believe,  the  merit  of  truth 
in  its  favor.  The  story,  as  related,  is  given  from 
the  lips  of  Mr.  Irving  at  a  breakfast-table  in 
Washington  City.  "  Mr.  Irving  said  that  he  re 
membered  General  Washington  perfectly.  There 
was  some  celebration,  some  public  affair  going 
on  in  New  York,  and  the  General  was  there  to 
participate  in  the  ceremony.  '  My  nurse,'  said 
Mr.  Irving,  '  a  good  old  Scotchwoman,  was  very 

*  A  portion  of  this  paper  is  made  up  from  a  previous  sketch, 
published  in  "The  Cyclopedia  of  American  Literature." 


anxious  for  me  to  see  him,  and  held  me  up  in  her 
arms  as  he  rode  past.  This,  however,  did  not 
satisfy  her;  so  the  next  day,  when  walking  with 
me  in  Broadway,  she  espied  him  in  a  shop,  she 
seized  my  hand  and  darting  in,  exclaimed  in  her 
bland  Scotch  : — u  Please,  your  Excellency,  here's 
a  bairn  that's  called  after  ye !"  General  Wash 
ington  then  turned  his  benevolent  face  full  upon 
me,  smiled,  laid  his  hand  upon  my  head,  and 
gave  me  his  blessing,  which,'  added  Mr.  Irving 
earnestly,  *  I  have  reason  to  believe,  has  attended 
me  through  life.  I  was  but  five  years  old,  yet  I 
can  feel  that  hand  upon  my  head  even  now.'  "* 
The  early  direction  of  the  mind  of  the  boy 
upon  whose  infant  head  the  hand  of  Washington 
had  thus  been  laid,  was  much  influenced  by  the 
tastes  of  his  brothers  who  had  occupied  them 
selves  with  literature.  Of  these,  William,  who 
subsequently  became  united  with  him  in  the 
joint  authorship  of  Salmagundi,  was  seventeen 
years  his  elder,  while  Peter,  the  editor  of  a  later 
day,  w#s  also  considerably  his  senior.  With  the 
guidance  of  these  cultivated  minds  and  sound 
family  influences,  the  youth  had  the  good  fortune 
to  fall  in  with  a  stock  of  the  best  old  English 
authors  of  the  Elizabethan  as  well  as  of  the  Au 
gustan  period,  the  study  of  which  generously  un 
folded  his  happy  natural  disposition.  Chaucer 
and  Spenser  were  his  early  favorites ;  and  a  bet 
ter  training  cannot  be  imagined  for  a  youth  of 
genius.  His  school  education  was  the  best  the 
times  afforded.  Though  something  may  be  said 
of  the  defects  of  the  city  academies  of  those  days 
in  comparison  with  the  present,  we  are  forced  to 
remember  that  however  prodigally  the  opportu 
nities  of  learning  may  be  increased,  the  receptive 
faculties  of  a  boy  are  limited.  There  may  be 
more  cramming  in  these  times  at  the  feast  of  the 
sciences ;  but  we  question  whether  the  digestion 
is  very  materially  improved.  Few  men,  at  any 
rate,  have  ever  shown  themselves  better  trained 
in  the  pursuit  of  literature  than  Washington 
Irving.  The  education  which  bore  such  early 
and  mature  fruit  must  have  been  of  the  right 
kind. 

*  This  anecdote  appeared  in  the  Buffalo  Courier,  in  the 
winter  of  1863. 


EARLY  VISIT  TO  EUROPE. — INTIMACY  WITH  ALLSTON. 


His  first  literary  productions  known  to  the 
public,  bear  date  at  the  early  age  of  nineteen. 
They  were  a  series  of  essays  on  the  theatrical 
performances  and  manners  of  the  town,  and  kin 
dred  topics,  with  the  signature,  "  Jonathan  Old- 
style,"  and  were  written  for  a  newspaper,  the 
Morning  Chronicle,  just  then  commenced,  in 
1802,  by  his  brother,  Dr.  Peter  Irving.  A  sur 
reptitious  edition  of  these  papers  was  published 
twenty  years  later,  when  the  Sketch- Book  had 
made  the  author  famous ;  but  they  have  not 
been  included  in  his  collected  works.  We  have 
read  them  with  pleasure.  They  present  a  quaint 
picture  of  the  life  of  New  York  half  a  century 
ago,  and  are  noticeable  for  the  early  formation 
of  the  writer's  happy  style. 

A  year  or  two  after  this  time,  in  1804,  Mr. 
Irving,  induced  by  some  symptoms  of  ill-health, 
apparently  of  a  pulmonary  nature,  visited  the 
South  of  Europe.  Embarking  at  New  York  for 
Bordeaux  in  May,  he  travelled,  on  his  arrival  in 
France,  by  Nice  to  Genoa,  where  he  passed  two 
months  ;  thence  to  Messina,  in  Sicily,  making  a 
tour  of  that  island,  and  crossing  from  Palermo 
to  Naples.  He  continued  his  journey  through 
Italy  and  Switzerland  to  France  ;  resided  several 
months  in  Paris,  and  finally  reached  England 
through  Flanders  and  Holland,  having  accumu 
lated,  by  the  way,  an  abiding  stock  of  impres 
sions,  which  lingered  in  his  mind,  and  furnished 
ever  fresh  material  for  his  subsequent  writings. 
It  was  while  at  Home,  on  this  journey,  that  he 
became  acquainted  with  Washington  Allston, 
and  so  far  participated  in  his  studies  as  to  medi 
tate  for  a  time  the  profession  of  a  painter,  a  pur 
suit  for  which  he  had  naturally  a  taste,  and  in 
which  he  had  been  somewhat  instructed.  His 
own  reminiscence  of  this  period,  in  his  happy 
tribute  to  the  memory  of  Allston,*  is  a  delight 
ful  picture,  softly  touched  in  an  Italian  atmos 
phere. 

"We  had  delightful  rambles  together,"  he 
writes,  "  about  Rome  and  its  environs,  one  of 
which  came  near  changing  my  whole  course  of 
life.  We  had  been  visiting  a  stately  villa,  with  its 
gallery  of  paintings,  its  marble  halls,  its  terraced 
gardens  set  out  with  statues  and  fountains,  and 
were  returning  to  Rome  about  sunset.  The 
blamlness  of  the  air,  the  serenity  of  the  sky,  the 
transparent  purity  of  the  atmosphere,  and  that 
nameless  charm  which  hangs  about  an  Italian 
landscape,  had  derived  additional  effect  from  be 
ing  enjoyed  in  company  with  Allston,  and  point 
ed  out  by  him  with  the  enthusiasm  of  an  artist. 
As  I  listened  to  him,  and  gazed  upon  the  land 
scape,  I  drew  in  my  mind  a  contrast  between 
our  different  pursuits  and  prospects.  He  was  to 

*  Kindly  contributed  to  "  The  Cyclopedia  of  American  Lit 
erature." 


reside  among  these  delightful  scenes,  surrounded 
by  masterpieces  of  art,  by  classic  and  historic 
monuments,  by  men  of  congenial  minds  and 
tastes,  engaged  like  him  in  the  constant  study  of 
the  sublime  and  beautiful.  I  was  to  return 
home  to  the  dry  study  of  the  law,  for  which  I 
had  no  relish,  and,  as  I  feared,  but  little  talent. 

"  Suddenly  the  thought  presented  itself,  '  Why 
might  I  not  remain  here,  and  turn  painter?'  I 
had  taken  lessons  in  drawing  before  leaving 
America,  and  had  been  thought  to  have  some 
aptness,  as  I  certainly  had  a  strong  inclination 
for  it.  I  mentioned  the  idea  to  Allston,  and  he 
caught  at  it  with  eagerness.  Nothing  could  be 
more  feasible.  We  would  take  an  apartment 
together.  He  would  give  me  all  the  instruction 
and  assistance  in  his  power,  and  was  sure  I 
would  succeed. 

"  For  two  or  three  days  the  idea  took  full  pos 
session  of  my  mind ;  but  I  believe  it  owed  its 
main  force  to  the  lovely  evening  ramble  in  which 
I  first  conceived  it,  and  to  the  romantic  friend 
ship  I  had  formed  with  Allston.  Whenever  it 
recurred  to  mind,  it  was  always  connected  with 
beautiful  Italian  scenery,  palaces,  and  statues, 
and  fountains,  and  terraced  gardens,  and  Allston 
as  the  companion  of  my  studio.  I  promised  my 
self  a  world  of  enjoyment  in  his  society,  and  in 
the  society  of  several  artists  with  whom  he  had 
made  me  acquainted,  and  pictured  forth  a  scheme 
of  life,  all  tinted  with  the  rainbow  hues  of  youth 
ful  promise. 

"  My  lot  in  life,  however,  was  differently  cast. 
Doubts  and  fears  gradually  clouded  over  my 
prospects  ;  the  rainbow  tints  faded  away  ;  I  be 
gan  to  apprehend  a  sterile  reality,  so  I  gave  up 
the  transient  but  delightful  prospect  of  remain 
ing  in  Rome  with  Allston,  and  turning  painter." 

After  an  absence  of  two  years,  Mr.  Irving  re 
turned  to  New  York,  in  March,  1806.  He  re 
sumed  the  study  of  the  law,  which  he  had  aban 
doned  for  his  journey,  and  was  admitted  at  the 
close  of  the  year  attorney-at-law.  He,  how 
ever,  never  practised  the  profession. 

Salmagundi ;  or,  the  Whim-  Whams  and 
Opinions  of  Launcelot  Langstaff,  Esq.,  and 
others — an  undertaking  much  more  to  his  taste 
— was  at  that  time  projected,  and  the  publication 
was  commenced  in  a  series  of  small  eighteenrno 
numbers,  appearing  about  once  a  fortnight  froin 
the  Shakspeare  Gallery  of  Longworth.  The  first 
is  dated  January  24,  1807.  It  was  continued 
for  a  year  through  twenty  numbers.  Paulding 
wrote  a  good  portion  of  this  work,  William 
Irving  the  poetry,  and  Washington  Irving  the 
remainder.  The  humors  of  the  day  are  hit  off,  in 
this  genial  collection  of  essays,  in  so  agreeable  a 
style,  that  the  work  is  still  read  with  interest — 
what  was  piquant  gossip  then  being  amusing 


THE  KECEPTION  OF  KNICKERBOCKER. 


history  now.  It  was  the  intention  of  Mr.  Irving 
to  have  extended  these  papers  by  carrying  out 
the  invention,  and  marrying  Will  Wizard  to  the 
eldest  Miss  Cockloft — with,  of  course,  a  grand 
wedding  at  Cockloft  Hall,  the  original  of  which 
mansion  was  a  veritable  edifice  owned  by  Gou- 
verneur  Kemble,  on  the  Passaic,  a  favorite  resort 
of  Geoffrey  Crayon  in  his  youthful  days.  Among 
other  originals  of  these  sketches  we  have  heard 
it  mentioned  that  some  of  tlie  peculiarities  of 
Dennie,  the  author,  were  hit  off  in  the  character 
of  Launcelot  Langstaff.  The  well-defined  picture 
of  "  My  Uncle  John"  is  understood  to  have  been 
from  the  pen  of  Paulding;  his,  too,  was  the 
original  sketch  of  the  paper  entitled  u  Autumnal 
Reflections,"  though  extended  and  wrought  up 
by  Mr.  Irving. 

Knickerbockers  History  of  New  York  was  pub 
lished  in  December,  1809.  It  was  commenced 
by  Washington  Irving,  in  company  with  his 
brother,  Peter  Irving,  with  the  notion  of  paro 
dying  a  handbook,  which  had  just  appeared,  en 
titled  "  A  Picture  of  New  York."  In  emulation 
of  an  historical  account  in  that  production,  it 
was  to  burlesque  the  local  records,  and  describe 
in  an  amusing  way  the  habits  and  statistics  of 
the  town.  Dr.  Irving  departing  for  Europe,  left 
the  work  solely  with  his  brother,  who  confined 
it  to  the  historical  part,  which  had  grown  in  his 
hands  into  a  long  comic  history.  The  humorous 
capabilities  of  the  subject  were  turned  to  account 
in  the  happiest  way,  the  fun  being  broad  enough 
to  steer  clear  of  the  realities  ;  though  a  venera 
ble  clergyman,  who  was  on  the  lookout  for  a 
history  with  that  theme  from  a  clerical  brother, 
is  said  to  have  begun  the  work  in  good  faith,  and 
to  have  been  only  gradually  warmed  to  a  con 
sciousness  of  the  joke.  The  highest  honor  ever 
paid  to  the  authentic  history  of  Knickerbocker 
was  the  quotation  from  it — in  good  Latin  phrase 
— by  Goeller,  German  annotator  of  Thucydides, 
in  illustration  of  a  passage  of  the  Greek  author  : 
*'  Addo  locum  Washingtonis  Irvingii  Hist.  Novi 
Eboraci,"  lib.  vii.,  cap.  5.*  To  humor  the  pleas 
antry,  preliminary  advertisements  had  been  in 
serted  before  the  publication  in  the  Evening  Post, 
calling  for  information  of  u  a  small  elderly  gen 
tleman,  dressed  in  an  old  black  coat  and  cocked 
hat,  by  the  name  of  Knickerbocker"  etc.,  who 
had  left  his  lodgings  at  the  Columbian  Hotel  in 
Mulberry  street ;  then  a  statement  that  the  old 
gentleman  had  left  "  a  very  curious  kind  of  a 
written  book  in  his  room,"  followed  by  the  an 
nouncement  of  the  actual  book,  "  in  two  volumes 
duodecimo,  price  three  dollars,"  from  the  pub 
lishers,  Inskeep  &  Bradford — to  pay  the  bill  of 
his  landlord. 

*  Classical  Museum,  Oct.,  1849. 


To  the  last  revised  edition  of  this  work,  in 
1850,  which  contains  some  very  pleasant  ad 
ditions,  the  author  prefixed  an  "Apology," 
which,  however,  offered  little  satisfaction  to  the 
irate  families  who  had  considered  their  honor 
aggrieved  by  the  publication  of  this  extravagant 
burlesque — seeing  that  the  incorrigible  author  in 
sisted  upon  it  that  he  had  brought  the  old  Dutch 
manners  and  times  into  notice,  instancing  the  in 
numerable  Knickerbocker  hotels,  steamboats,  ice- 
carts,  and  other  appropriations  of  the  name ; 
and  had  added  not  only  to  the  general  hilarity 
but  to  the  harmony  of  the  city,  by  the  popular 
traditions  which  he  had  set  in  vogue  "  forming  a 
convivial  currency ;  linking  our  whole  commu 
nity  together  in  good  humor  and  good  fellow 
ship  ;  the  rallying  points  of  home  feeling ;  the 
seasoning  of  civic  festivities  ;  the  staple  of  local 
tales  and  local  pleasantries."*  We  should  at 
tach  little  importance  to  the  subject  had  it  not 
been  made  a  matter  of  comment  in  the  New  York 
Historical  Society,  in  an  address  before  which 
body  it  was  gravely  held  up  to  reprehension. 
The  truth  of  the  matter  is  that  the  historians 
should  have  occupied  the  ground  earlier,  if  pos 
sible,  and  not  have  given  the  first  advantage  to 
the  humorist.  We  do  not  find,  however,  that 
the  burlesque  has  at  all  damaged  the  subject  in 
the  hands  of  Mr.  Brodhead,  who  has  at  length 
brought  to  bear  a  system  of  original  investiga 
tion  and  historical  inquiry  upon  the  worthy 
Dutch  settlers  of  New  Amsterdam  ;  or  deterio 
rated  a  whit  the  learned  labors  of  O'Callaghan, 
who  has  illustrated  the  early  Dutch  annals 
with  faithful  diligence.  The  style  of  Knicker 
bocker  is  of  great  felicity.  There  is  just  enough 
flavor  of  English  classical  reading  to  give  the 
riant,  original  material,  the  highest  gusto.  The 
descriptions  of  nature  and  manners  are  occasion 
ally  very  happy  in  a  serious  way,  and  the  satire 
is,  much  of  it,  of  that  universal  character  which 
will  bear  transplantation  to  wider  scenes  and 
interests.  The  laughter-compelling  humor  is  ir 
resistible,  and  we  may  readily  believe  the  story 
of  that  arch  wag  himself,  Judge  Brackenridge, 
exploding  over  a  copy  of  the  work,  which  he  had 
smuggled  with  him  to  the  bench. 

Has  the  reader  ever  noticed  the  beautiful, 
pathetic  close  of  this  humorous  book  ?  u  Al 
ready,"  writes  Diedrich  Knickerbocker,  u  has 
withering  age  showered  his  sterile  snows  upon  my 
brow ;  in  a  little  while,  and  this  genial  warmth, 
which  still  lingers  around  my  heart,  and  throbs 
— worthy  reader — throbs  kindly  towards  thyself, 
will  be  chilled  forever.  Haply  this  frail  com 
pound  of  dust,  which  while  alive  may  have  given 


*  The  author's  "  Apology,"  preface  to  edition  of  Knicker 
bocker,  1848. 

Vii 


SIR  WALTER  SCOTT'S  LETTER. — LIFE  OF  CAMPBELL. 


birth  to  naught  but  unprofitable  weeds,  may 
form  a  humble  sod  of  the  valley,  whence  may 
spring  many  a  sweet  wild  flower,  to  adorn  ruy 
beloved  island  of  Manna-hatta!" 

Some  time  after  the  publication  of  Knicker 
bocker,  a  copy  was  sent  by  the  late  Mr.  Henry 
Brevoort,  an  intimate  friend  of  the  author,  to 
Sir  Walter  Scott.  It  drew  forth  the  following 
cordial  reply,  dated  Abbotsford,  April  23,  1813: 
"My  dear  Sir,  I  beg  you  to  accept  my  best 
thanks  for  the  uncommon  degree  of  entertain 
ment  which  I  have  received  from  the  most 
excellently  jocose  history  of  New  York.  I  am 
sensible  that,  as  a  stranger  to  American  parties 
and  politics,  I  must  lose  much  of  the  concealed 
satire  of  the  piece;  but  I  must  own  that,  looking 
at  the  simple  and  obvious  meaning  only,  I  have 
never  read  any  thing  so  closely  resembling  the 
stile  of  Dean  Swift  as  the  annals  of  Diedrich 
Knickerbocker.  I  have  been  employed  these 
few  evenings  in  reading  them  aloud  to  Mrs.  S. 
and  two  ladies  who  are  our  guests,  and  our  sides 
have  been  absolutely  sore  with  laughing.  I 
think,  too,  there  are  passages  which  indicate  that 
the  author  possesses  powers  of  a  different  kind, 
and  has  some  touches  which  remind  me  much  of 
Sterne.  I  beg  you  will  have  the  kindness  to  let 
me  know  when  Mr.  Irvine  takes  pen  in  hand 
again,  for  assuredly  I  shall  expect  a  very  great 
treat,  which  I  may  chance  never  to  hear  of  but 
through  your  kindness.  Believe  me,  dear  sir, 
your  obliged  and  humble  servant,  Walter  Scott."* 

Praise  like  this  was  likely  to  create  a  flutter 
in  a  youthful  breast.  Irving  had  afterwards  the 
satisfaction  to  learn  how  sincere  it  was,  in  per 
sonal  intercourse  with  Scott.  Lockhart,  in  the 
biography  of  Sir  Walter,  tells  us  that  the  latter 
had  not  forgotten  the  Knickerbocker,  when, 
in  the  summer  of  1817,  Mr.  Irving  presented 
himself  at  the  gate  of  Abbotsford  with  a  letter 
of  introduction  from  the  poet  Campbell.  The 
welcome  was  prompt  and  earnest;  and  the  pro 
posed  morning  call  was  changed  into  that  de 
lighted  residence  so  fondly  revived  in  the  "  Visit 
to  Abbotsford"  in  The  Crayon  Miscellany,  and 
largely  adopted  by  Lockhart  in  the  Biography. 
We  have  heard  Mr.  Irving  speak  of  this  visit 
within  the  last  year  of  his  life  with  boyish  de 
light.  "This,"  said  he,  "was  to  be  happy.  I 
felt  happiness  then."  So  true  and  generous  was 
his  allegiance  to  the  noble  nature  of  Sir  Walter, 
who  was  himself  warmly  drawn  to  his  visitor. 
Scott  thanked  Campbell  for  sending  him  such  a 
guest,  "one  of  the  best  and  pleasantest  acquaint 
ances  I  have  made  this  many  a  day."  t  In  the 

*  This  copy  is  made  from  a  lithographed  fac-sirnile  of  the 
original.  One  or  two  defects  in  spelling,  it  will  be  seen,  are 
preserved. 

t  Lockhart's  Scott,  ch.  xxxix. 

viii 


later  years  of  Irving  at  Sunnyside,  there  was 
much  to  remind  the  privileged  visitor  of  the  pil 
grimages  to  Abbotsford,  when  the  radiance  of 
the  author  of  Waverley  shed  delight  on  all 
around. 

In  1810  Mr.  Irving  wrote  a  biographical 
sketch  of  the  poet  Campbell,  which  was  prefixed 
to  an  edition  of  the  poet's  works  published  in 
Philadelphia,  and  subsequently  was  printed, 
"revised,  corrected,  and  materially  altered  by 
the  author,"  in  the  Analectic  Magazine.  The 
circumstance  which  led  to  this  undertaking  at 
that  time,  was  Mr.  Irving's  acquaintance  with 
Archibald  Campbell,  a  brother  of  the  author,  re 
siding  in  New  York,  and  desirous  of  finding  a 
purchaser  for  an  American  edition  of  O"1 Connor's 
Child,  which  he  had  just  received  from  London. 
To  facilitate  this  object,  Mr.  Irving  wrote  the 
preliminary  sketch  from  facts  furnished  by  the 
poet's  brother.  It  afterwards  led  to  a  personal 
acquaintance  between  the  two  authors  when  Mr. 
Irving  visited  England.  In  1850,  after  Camp 
bell's  death,  when  his  Life  and,  Letters,  edited 
by  Dr.  Beattie,  were  about  to  be  republished  by 
the  Harpers  in  New  York,  Mr.  Irving  was  ap 
plied  to  for  a  few  preliminary  words  of  introduc 
tion.  He  wrote  a  letter,  prefixed  to  the  volumes, 
in  which  he  speaks  gracefully  and  nobly  of  his 
acquaintance  with  Campbell,  many  of  the  virtues 
of  whose  private  life  were  first  disclosed  to  the 
public  in  Dr.  Beattie's  publication. 

One  sentence  strikes  us  as  peculiarly  charac 
teristic  of  the  feelings  of  Mr.  Irving.  It  is  in 
recognition  of  this  revelation  of  the  poet's  better 
nature  that  he  writes,  in  words  of  charity,  as  he 
looked  back  upon  the  asperities  which  beset 
Campbell's  career: — "I  shall  feel  satisfaction  in 
putting  on  record  my  own  recantation  of  the 
erroneous  opinion  I  once  entertained,  and  may 
have  occasionally  expressed,  of  the  private  char 
acter  of  an  illustrious  poet,  whose  moral  worth 
is  now  shown  to  have  been  fully  equal  to  his 
exalted  genius." 

Though  Mr.  Irving  in  this  later  essay  speaks 
slightingly  of  the  earlier  composition  as  written 
when  he  was  "  not  in  the  vein,"  we  have  found 
it,  on  perusal,  a  most  engaging  piece  of  writing. 
A  paragraph  descriptive  of  the  youthful  Camp 
bell  might  be  taken  for  a  portrait  of  himself. 
Indeed,  it  often  happens  that  a  writer,  while 
drawing  the  character  of  another,  is  simply  pro 
jecting  his  sympathies,  and  unconsciously  por 
traying  himself.  "  He  is  generally  represented 
to  us,"  says  Mr.  Irving,  in  this  description  of 
Campbell,  "  as  being  extremely  studious,  but  at 
the  same  time  social  in  his  disposition,  gentle 
and  endearing  in  his  manners,  and  extremely 
prepossessing  in  his  appearance  and  address. 
With  a  delicate  and  even  nervous  sensibility,  and 


MlMSTHY    OF    LlTKIiATUllE. TlIE    SlvKTCIl-EoOK. 


a  degree  of  self-diffidence  that,  at  times,  is  almost 
painful,  he  shrinks  from  the  glare  of  notoriety 
which  his  own  works  have  shed  around  him, 
and  seems  ever  deprecating  criticism,  rather  than 
enjoying  praise.  Though  his  society  is  courted 
by  the  most  polished  and  enlightened,  among 
whom  he  is  calculated  to  shine,  yet  his  chief 
delight  is  in  domestic  life,  in  the  practice  of 
those  gentle  virtues  and  bland  affections  which 
he  has  so  touchingly  and  eloquently  illustrated 
in  various  passages  of  his  poems." 

In  this  memoir  of  Campbell  we  meet  with  a 
beautiful  image  illustrating  the  sentiment  of 
obligation  to  British  authorship,  which  must 
have  been  entertained,  as,  indeed,  it  still  is,  with 
great  force  by  every  ingenuous  mind,  at  the  be 
ginning  of  the  century,  when  our  literature  was 
in  its  infancy.  "  When  we  turn  our  eyes  to 
England,  from  whence  this  bounteous  tide  of 
literature  pours  in  upon  us,  it  is  with  such  feel 
ings  as  the  Egyptian  experiences,  when  he  looks 
towards  the  sacred  source  of  that  stream  which, 
rising  in  a  far  distant  country,  flows  down  upon 
his  own  barren  soil,  diffusing  riches,  beauty,  and 
fertility." 

We  may  here,  too,  recall  a  sentence  as  not  un- 
suited  to  our  own  times  at  home,  in  which  Mr. 
Irving,  writing  in  1815,  after  his  pen  had  done 
good  service  to  his  countrymen  in  the  war,  re 
cords  his  sense  of  the  peculiar  sphere  of  author 
ship  in  its  better  moods.  After  describing  "the 
exalted  ministry  of  literature  to  keep  together 
the  family  of  human  nature,"  he  adds: — u  The 
author  may  be  remiss  in  the  active  exercise  of 
this  duty,  but  he  will  never  have  to  reproach 
himself  that  he  has  attempted  to  poison,  with 
political  virulence,  the  pure  fountains  of  elegant 
literature." 

But  we  must  hasten  rapidly  over  the  events 
of  Mr.  Irving's  literary  life,  though  tempted  to 
linger  at  every  turn,  so  fertile  are  they  in  topics 
of  pleasure  and  instruction. 

After  the  publication  of  the  Knickerbocker, 
Mr.  Irving,  turning  from  the  law  with  little  re 
gret,  engaged  with  two  of  his  brothers  in  mer 
cantile  business,  as  a  silent  partner.  In  a  letter 
to  a  friend,  dated  May  15,  1811,  he  writes  : — 
"  Since  you  left  us,  I  have  been  a  mere  animal ; 
working  among  hardware  and  cutlery.  We  have 
been  moving  the  store,  and  I  (my  pen  creeps  at 
the  very  thoughts  of  it)  have  had,  in  this  time  of 
hurry  and  confusion,  to  lend  all  the  assistance 
in  my  power,  and  bend  my  indolent  and  restive 
habits  to  the  plodding  routine  of  traffic." 

The  second  war  with  Great  Britain  then  broke 
out,  when  he  took  part  in  the  spirit  of  the  day; 
edited  the  Analectic  Magazine,  published  at  Phil 
adelphia  by  Moses  Thomas,  penning  an  eloquent 
series  of  biographies,  accompanying  portraits  of 


the  American  Naval  Captains;  and,  in  1814, 
joined  the  military  staff  of  Governor  Tompkins 
as  aid-de-camp  and  military  secretary,  with  the 
title  of  colonel.  When  the  war  was  ended  the 
next  year,  he  sailed  for  Liverpool  in  the  month 
of  May,  made  excursions  into  Wales,  extended 
his  tour  to  several  of  the  finest  counties  of  Eng 
land,  and  to  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  and  had 
the  intention  of  visiting  the  continent.  The 
commercial  revulsions  which  followed  the  war 
overwhelmed  the  house  with  which  he  was  con 
nected,  and  he  was  thrown  upon  his  resources  as 
an  author.  He  accepted  his  new  method  of  life 
with  cheerfulness ;  his  spirits  rose  with  the  oc 
casion,  as  he  started  on  a  literary  career  with 
not  unproved  powers,  and  an  inward  conscious 
ness  of  his  fitness  for  the  pursuit. 

Repairing  to  London,  his  excursions  and  his 
observations  on  rural  life  and  manners  furnished 
materials  for  some  of  the  most  attractive  por 
tions  of  his  Sketch-Book.  He  was  very  much 
struck  by  the  individuality  of  the  English,  par 
ticularly  in  such  as  were  removed  from  business 
centres;  and  found  much  to  study  in  personal 
peculiarities,  while  at  a  small  watering-place  in 
Wales.  He  met  there  with  the  veteran  angler 
whom  he  has  so  pleasantly  described  in  a  paper 
of  the  Sketch-Book^  which  soon  after  made  its 
appearance.  The  first  number  was  sent  from 
London  in  the  beginning  of  March,  1819,  to  his 
friend,  Mr.  Brevoort,  in  America,  with  the  char 
acteristic  remark  that  it  had  cost  him  "  much 
coaxing  of  his  Ynind  to  get  it  in  training  again." 

The  publication  wras  commenced  in  Xew  York 
in  large  octavo  pamphlets — a  style  afterwards 
adopted  by  Dana  in  his  Idle  Man,  and  Longfel 
low  in  his  Outre  Mer.  Shortly  after  the  first 
volume  had  appeared  in  this  form,  it  attracted 
the  notice  of  the  London  editor,  Jerdan,  who 
received  a  copy  brought  over  from  America  by 
a  passenger,  and  republished  some  of  the  papers 
in  his  Literary  Gazette*  A  reprint  of  the  whole 
was  in  prospect  by  some  bookseller,  when  the 
author  applied  to  Murray  to  undertake  the  work. 
The  answer  was  civil,  but  the  publisher  declined 
it.  Mr.  Irving  then  addressed  Sir  Walter  Scott 
(by  whom  he  had  previously  been  cordially  re 
ceived  at  Abbotsford,  on  his  visit  in  1817,  of 
which  he  has  given  so  agreeable  an  account  in 
the  paper  in  the  Crayon  Miscellany),  to  secure  his 
assistance  with  the  publisher  Constable,  Scott, 
in  the  most  friendly  manner,  promised  his  aid; 
and,  as  an  immediate  assistance,  ottered  Mr.  Ir 
ving  the  editorial  chair  of  a  weekly  periodical  to 
be  established  at  Edinburgh,  with  a  salary  of  five 
hundred  pounds;  but  the  sensitive  author,  who 
knew  his  own  mind,  had  too  vivid  a  sense  of  the 

*  Autobiography  of  William  Jciil 


THOMAS  MOORE'S  DIAEY. 


toils  and  responsibilities  of  such  an  office  to  ac 
cept  it.  He  put  the  first  volume  of  the  Sketch 
Boole  to  press  at  his  own  expense,  with  John 
Miller,  February,  1820;  it  was  getting  along  tol 
erably,  when  the  bookseller  failed  in  the  first 
month.  It  was  a  humorous  remark  of  Mr.  Ir 
ving,  that  he  always  brought  ill  luck  to  his  pub 
lishers  ;  though,  with  the  ardor  of  a  good  lover 
— a  more  amiable  type  of  character  than  a  good 
hater — he  stuck  by  them  to  the  end.  Sir  Wal 
ter  Scott  came  to  London  at  this  emergency, 
reopened  the  matter  with  Murray,  who  issued 
the  entire  work,  and  thenceforward  Mr.  Irving 
had  a  publisher  for  his  successive  works,  "  con 
ducting  himself  in  all  his  dealings  with  that  fair, 
open,  and  liberal  spirit  which  had  obtained  for 
him  the  well-merited  appellation  of  the  Prince 
of  Booksellers."*  Murray  bought  the  copyright 
for  two  hundred  pounds,  which  he  subsequently 
increased  to  four  hundred,  with  the  success  of 
the  work. 

In  1820,  Mr.  Irving  took  up  his  residence  for 
a  year  in  Paris,  where  he  became  acquainted 
with  the  poet  Moore,  enjoyed  his  intimacy,  and 
visited  the  best  English  society  in  the  metropolis. 
Moore's  Diary  at  this  period  abounds  with  pleas 
ant  glimpses  of  Irving  in  these  social  scenes  in 
Paris — at  the  dinner-parties  of  London,  in  com 
pany  with  his  intimates,  Kenney  the  dramatist 
and  Newton  the  artist— and  in  the  more  general 
society  of  Holland  House,  and  in  other  distin 
guished  belles-lettres  and  social  resorts  at  Long 
man's  and  elsewhere,  down  to  "supper  at  the 
Barton  Ale  House."  Moore,  as  he  himself  tells 
us,  sought  and  made  the  acquaintance  of  Irving 
at  Meurice's  table-cThote  in  Paris.  It  was  in 
December,  1820,  and  his  first  impression  is  thus 
recorded — ua  good-looking  and  intelligent  man 
nered  man."  They  became  friends  at  once,  dined 
frequently  together  in  company,  and  admired  one 
another  generously.  Moore,  as  usual,  is  ready 
to  chronicle  the  compliments,  and  somewhat 
eager  to  put  upon  record  his  valuable  sugges 
tions.  He  speaks  of  Irving's  u  amazing  rapidity" 
in  the  composition  of  Bracebridge  Hall,  which 
was  written  while  he  was  in  the  vein.  At  other 
times  he  could  produce  little.  Moore  tells  us 
that  some  hundred  and  thirty  pages  of  the  new 
book  were  written  in  the  course  of  ten  days. 
Mr.  Irving,  however,  never  liked  that  spur  to 
most  authors,  being  "dogged  by  the  press,"  as 
he  terms  it  in  the  preface  to  one  of  his  most 
agreeable  books,  the  Life  of  Goldsmith,  which 
was  mostly  written  and  driven  through  the 
printer's  hands  within  the  short  period  of  two 
months. 

Moore,  in  several  instances,  clnims  his  "thun- 

*  Trefacc  to  the  Revised  Edition  of  the  Sketch-Book. 


der."  The  account  of  the  bookseller's  dinner  in 
the  story  of  "  Buckthorne  and  his  Friends,"  in  the 
Tales  of  a  Traveller,  which  owes  every  thing  to 
Irving's  handling,  Moore  says  is  "so  exactly  like 
what  I  told  him  of  one  of  the  Longmans  (the 
carving  partner,  the  partner  to  laugh  at  the  pop 
ular  author's  jokes,  the  twelve-edition  writers 
treated  with  claret,  &c.),  that  I  very  much  fear 
my  friends  in  Paternoster  How  will  know  them 
selves  in  the  picture."  Moore  tells  us  that  he 
told  Irving  the  story  of  "  the  woman  with  the 
black  collar,  and  the  head  falling  off,"  which  he 
had  from  Horace  Smith,  which,  taking  Irving's 
fancy,  appeared  in  due  time,  as  "  The  Adven 
ture  of  the  German  Student,"  in  the  Tales  of  a 
Traveller.  Such  reminiscences  are  the  jealous 
ies  of  friendship  ;  they  carry  with  them  no  taint 
of  plagiarism. 

Moore  records  a  pointed  rebuke  which  Cooper, 
the  novelist,  once  gave  Rogers,  in  his  company, 
when  the  poet  saying  of  the  Life  of  Columbus, 
"  in  his  dry,  significant  way,"  that  "  It's  rather 
long"  Cooper  turned  round  on  him,  and  said 
sharply,  "  That's  a  short  criticism." 

In  another  passage,  Moore,  recording  a  visit  of 
Irving  to  Sloperton,  says : — "  Took  Irving  after 
dinner  to  show  him  to  the  Starkeys,  but  he  was 
sleepy,  and  did  not  open  his  mouth ;  the  same  at 
Elvvyn's  dinner."  He  adds,  what  Geoffrey 
Crayon  himself  would  have  accepted  as  a  pane 
gyric, — "  not  strong  as  a  lion,  but  delightful  as  a 
domestic  animal." 

This  somnolence  of  Irving  in  company  was  a 
joke  of  the  wits,  doubtless  exaggerated,  but 
probably  with  some  foundation.  Yet  his  sensi 
tive  organization  left  him  a  poor  sleeper  at  night. 
D'Israeli,  in  his  Vivian  Grey,  is  the  father  of 
this  story  in  his  introduction  of  Geoffrey  Crayon: 
"'Poor  Washington!  poor  Washington!'  said 
Vivian,  writing  ;  1 1  knew  him  well  in  London. 
He  always  slept  at  dinner.  One  day,  as  he  was 
dining  at  Mr.  Hallam's,  they  took  him,  when 
asleep,  to  Lady  Jersey's  rout;  and  to  see  the 
Sieur  Geoffrey,  when  he  opened  his  eyes  in  the 
illumined  saloons,  was  really  quite  admirable, 
quite  an  Arabian  tale  !'  " 

We  find  these  exaggerated  tales  of  Irving's 
sleepiness  in  company  long  kept  up  as  a  tradition 
among  dull  diners-out.  Miss  Brerner,  in  1849, 
in  her  Homes  of  the  New  World,  is  delighted 
with  his  vivacity  at  table;  perhaps  taking  the 
exception  as  a  personal  compliment  to  herself, 
for  she  had  heard  the  old  story,  without  much 
surprise,  she  says,  as  dinner-parties  generally  go. 

Bracebridge  Hall,  or  the  Humorists,  the  suc 
cessor  of  The  Sketch  Boole,  is  a  series  of  pictures 
of  English  rural  life,  holiday  customs,  and  refined 
village  character  of  the  Sir  Roger  de  Coverly  por 
traiture,  centring  about  a  line  old  establishment 


JOHN  NEAL'S  BLACKWOOD  CRITICISM. 


in  Yorkshire.  The  characters  of  Master  Simon, 
Jack  Tibbetts,  and  General  Ilarbottle  do  credit 
to  the  school  of  Goldsmith  and  Addison.  The 
Stout  Gentleman,  the  Village  Choir,  the  delicate 
story  of  Annette  Delarbre  display  the  best  pow 
ers  of  the  author;  while  the  episodes  of  the 
Dutch  tales  of  Dolph  Heyliger  and  the  Storm 
Ship,  among  the  happiest  passages  of  his  genius, 
relieve  the  monotony  of  the  English  description. 

The  winter  of  1822  was  passed  by  Mr.  Irving 
at  Dresden.  He  returned  to  Paris  in  1823,  and 
in  the  December  of  the  following  year  published 
his  Tales  of  a  Traveller,  with  the  stories  of  the 
Nervous  Gentleman,  including  that  fine  piece  of 
animal  spirits  and  picturesque  description,  the 
Bold  Dragoon,  the  series  of  pictures  of  literary 
life  in  Buckthorne  and  his  Friends — in  which 
there  is  some  of  his  most  felicitous  writing, 
blending  humor,  sentiment,  and  a  kindly  indul 
gence  for  the  frailties  of  life, — the  romantic 
Italian  Stories,  and,  as  in  the  preceding  work,  a 
sequel  of  New  World  legends  of  Dutchmen  and 
their  companions,  built  up  by  the  writer's  in 
vention  in  the  expansion  of  the  fertile  theme 
of  Captain  Kidd,  the  well-knoAvn  piratical  and 
money-concealing  adventurer.  For  this  work 
Moore  tells  us  that  Murray  gave  Mr.  Irving  fif 
teen  hundred  pounds,  and  a  he  might  have  had 
two  thousand."*  These  books  were  still  pub 
lished  in  the  old  form  in  numbers  in  New  York, 
simultaneously  with  their  English  appearance. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  John  Neal,  in  a 
series  of  lively  and  egotistical  papers  in  Black- 
wood,  on  u  American  Writers,"  published  rather 
a  detailed  account  of  Irving  and  his  writings. 
In  the  course  of  it  we  meet  with  this  personal 
description  of  Geoffrey  Crayon.  It  is  freely 
sketched,  but  has  the  rough  likeness  of  a  good 
caricature: — "He  is,  now,  in  his  fortieth  year; 
about  five  feet  seven;  agreeable  countenance; 
black  hair;  manly  complexion  ;  fine  hazel  eyes, 
when  lighted  up,  heavy  in  general ;  talks  better 
than  he  writes,  when  worthily  excited;  but  falls 
asleep — literally  asleep  in  his  chair — at  a  formal 
dinner-party,  in  high  life;  half  the  time  in  a 
revery  ;  little  impediment — a  sort  of  uneasy, 
anxious,  catching  respiration  of  the  voice,  when 
talking  zealously;  writes  a  small,  neat  hand, 
like  Montgomery,  Allan  Cunningham,  or  Shee 
(it  is  like  that  of  each)  ;  indolent;  nervous;  ir 
ritable;  easily  depressed;  easily  disheartened; 
very  amiable  ;  no  appearance  of  especial  refine 
ment ;  nothing  remarkable,  nothing  uncommon 
about  him  ; — precisely  such  a  man,  to  say  all  in 
a  word,  as  people  would  continually  overlook, 
pass  by  without  notice,  or  forget,  after  dining 
with  him,  unless,  peradventure,  his  name  were 

*  Diary,  June  17, 1*24. 


mentioned;  in  which  case — odds  bobs! — they 
are  all  able  to  recall  something  remarkable  in  his 
way  of  sitting,  eating,  or  looking — though,  like 
Oliver  Goldsmith  himself,  he  had  never  opened 
his  mouth,  while  they  were  near ;  or  sat,  in  a 
high  chair — as  far  into  it  as  he  could  get — with 
his  toes  just  reaching  the  floor." 

Neal  was  the  first,  we  believe,  to  point  out  the 
occasional  high  poetical  qualities  in  Irving's 
style.  He  stickled  for  a  passage  in  the  u  Life  of 
Perry,"  in  the  Analectic  Magazine,  picturing  the 
"  apparition"  of  the  sea-fight  to  the  natives  on 
Lake  Erie :  "  The  bosoms  of  peaceful  lakes 
which,  but  a  short  time  since,  were  scarcely  nav 
igated  by  man,  except  to  be  skimmed  by  the 
light  canoe  of  the  savage,  have  all  at  once  been 
ploughed  by  hostile  ships.  The  vast  silence  that 
had  reigned  for  ages  on  those  mighty  waters, 
was  broken  by  the  thunder  of  artillery,  and  the 
affrighted  savage  stared  with  amazement  from 
his  covert,  at  the  sudden  apparition  of  a  sea- 
fight  amid  the  solitudes  of  the  wilderness."  * 

Again,  after  some  fine  compliments  to  The 
Sketch  Book,  we  are  told  "  The  touches  of  poetry 
are  everywhere;  but  never  where  one  would 
look  for  them.  *  *  The  4  dusty  splendor*  of 
Westminster  Abbey — the  '  ship  staggering''  over 
the  precipices  of  the  ocean — the  shark  '•darting, 
like  a  spectre,  through,  the  hlue  waters,"* — all 
these  things  are  poetry.  We  could  mention  fifty 
more  passages,  epithets,  words  of  power,  which 
no  mere  prose  writer  would  have  dared,  under 
any  circumstances,  to  use.  They  are  like  the 
'invincible  locks1  of  Milton — revealing  the  god, 
in  spite  of  every  disguise.  *  *  *  When  we  come 
upon  the  epithets  of  Geoffrey,  we  feel  as  if  \ve 
had  found  accidentally,  after  we  had  given  up 
all  hope,  some  part  or  parcel  which  had  always 
been  missing  (as  everybody  could  see,  though  no 
body  knew  where  to  look  for  it),  of  the  very 
thoughts  or  words  with  which  he  has  now 
coupled  it  forever.  Let  us  give  an  illustration. 

"  Who  has  not  felt,  as  he  stood  in  the  solemn, 
strange  light  of  a  great  wilderness ;  of  some  old, 
awful  ruin — a  world  of  shafts  and  arches  about 
him,  like  a  druidical  wood — illuminated  by  the 
sunset — a  visible,  bright  atmosphere,  coining 
through  colored  glass — who  has  not  felt  as  if  he 
would  give  his  right  hand  for  a  few  simple  words 
— the  fewer  the  better — to  describe  the  appear 
ance  of  the  air  about  him?  Would  he  call  it 
splendor  ? — it  isn't  splendor :  dusty  ? — it  would 
be  ridiculous.  But  what  if  he  say,  like  Irving, 
dusty  splendor? — will  he  not  have  said  all  that 
can  be  said  ?  Who  ever  saw  those  two  words 
associated  before  ?  who  would  ever  wish  to  see 
them  separated  again  ?" 

*  Analectic  Magazine,  Dec.,  1813. 


COLUMBUS  A^D  THE  SPANISH  BOOKS. 


The  winter  of  1825  was  passed  by  Mr.  Irving 
in  the  South  of  France;*  and  early  in  the  fol 
lowing  year  he  went  to  Madrid,  at  the  suggestion 
of  Alexander  II.  Everett,  then  minister  to  Spain, 
for  the  purpose  of  translating  the  important  se 
ries  of  new  documents  relating  to  the  voyage  of 
Columbus,  just  collected  by  Navarrete.  For  a 
translation  was  substituted  the  History  of  the 
Life  (tnd  Voyages  of  Christopher  Columbus,  to 
which  the  Voyages  and  Discoveries  of  the  Com 
panions  of  Columbus  were  afterwards  added. 
The  Columbus  was  published  in  1828;  and  the 
English  edition  brought  its  author,  with  an  ex 
pansion  of  his  fame,  a  substantial  return  in  three 
thousand  guineas.  It  also  gained  him  a  high 
honor  in  the  receipt  of  one  of  the  fifty-guinea 
gold  medals,  provided  by  George  IV.  for  emi 
nence  in  historical  writing,  its  companion  being 
assigned  to  Hallam.  A  tour  to  the  South  of 
Spain  in  this  and  the  following  year  provided 
the  materials  for  A  Chronicle  of  the  Conquest  of 
(1  ranada,  and  The  Alhambra,  or  the  Neio  Sketch- 
Book.  The  latter  is  dedicated,  May,  1832,  to 
Wilkie,  the  artist,  who  was  a  companion  with 
the  author  in  some  of  his  excursions.  Mr.  Irving 
spent  three  months  in  the  old  Moorish  palace. 
lie  some  time  after,  in  America,  published  his 
Legends  of  the  Conquest  of  Spain  (in  1835); 
which,  with  his  Mahomet  and  his  Successors 
(1849-50),  complete  a  series  of  Spanish  and 
Moorish  subjects,  marked  by  the  same  genial 
and  poetic  treatment;  the  fancy  of  the  writer 
evidently  luxuriating  in  the  personal  freedom  of 
movement  of  his  heroes,  their  humor  of  indi 
vidual  character,  and  the  warm  oriental  color 
ing  of  the  whole.  If  the  author  had  any  prefer 
ences  for  his  writings,  they  were  for  these  fas 
cinating  themes,  lie  abandoned  himself  to  the 
mystical  charm  of  the  East — that  fertile  pleas 
ure-ground  of  the  imagination,  about  which  still 
hangs  something  of  the  childhood  of  the  world;  a 
land  of  idle  ease  and  magical  incantations,  where 
new  generations  are  constantly  entertained  with 
the  unexhausted  fable.  u  lie  loved"  (perhaps  bet- 

*  An  idle  story  of  Irving  in  Italy  appears  at  this  time  to 
have  been  circulated  among  the  literary  triflers  in  London. 
It  found  its  way  into  BUickwood's  Magazine  for  August,  18'26, 
in  the  following  paragraph  : 

'•  Apropos  of  extraordinary  juxtapositions.  The,  last  news 
from  Italy  is  that  Washington  Irving  is  on  the  point  of  being 
married  to  the  Empress  Maria  Louisa;  the  Cyclops,  General 
Caracambaza,  having  been  dismissed  her  presence,  and  the 
Avhole  nobility  of  Parma  having  united  in  a  petition  that  her 
majesty  would  leave  them  no  longer  without  a  Sovereign. 
Political  reasons  possibly  prevented  her  from  fixing  on  a  Eu 
ropean  :  and  the  American  author  having  been  highly  intro 
duced  at  her  court,  and  really  having  the  mild  and  graceful 
manners  and  exterior  that  naturally  please  women,  the  an 
nouncement  of  his  good  fortune  was  made  to  him  by  her  chan 
cellor,  Count  Cicognara;  and  it  is  stated  that  the  alliance  may 
be  expected  to  take  place  immediately.  So  much  for  America. 
With  Mrs.  Jerome  Napoleon,  the  Marchioness  Wollesley,  and 
Archduke  Irving  of  Parma  and  Lucca,  the  Trans-Atlantic's  inwy 
hope  to  have  some  future  share  of  European  civilization."1 

xii 


tor  than  the  poet  Collins)  "fairies,  genii,  giants, 
and  monsters  ;  he  delighted  to  rove  through  the 
meanders  of  enchantment,  to  gaze  on  the  mag 
nificence  of  golden  palaces,  to  repose  by  the 
waterfalls  of  elysian  gardens." 

The  following  anecdotes  of  the  preparation  of 
the  Columbus,  and  of  these  Spanish  studies,  have 
been  communicated  to  us  by  Mr.  J.  Carson  Bre- 
voort,  the  son  of  Mr.  Irving's  old  friend,  who  had 
served  him  with  Scott,  and  in  the  publication 
of  the  Sketch  Book.  Mr.  Brevoort,  the  younger, 
subsequently  accompanied  him  to  Madrid  as  sec 
retary  in  his  Spanish  mission  : 

u  Lieut.  A.  Slidell  McKenzie  (author  of  a 
Year  in  Spain  and  Spain  Revisited)  was  in 
Madrid  about  the  time  when  the  MS.  of  Mr. 
Irving's  Columbus  was  nearly  completed,  and, 
confiding  in  his  taste,  Mr.  Irving  begged  him  to 
read  it  with  a  critic's  eye.  Mr.  McKenzie,  or 
rather  Slidell,  as  he  was  then  called,  did  so,  and 
returned  it,  remarking  that  it  was  quite  perfect 
in  his  judgment,  with  the  exception  of  the  style, 
which  he  thought  of  unequal  excellence.  Mr.  Ir 
ving  was  impressed  by  the  remark,  and  rewrote 
the  whole  narrative  in  order  to  make  it  uniform 
in  style  throughout.  Mr.  Irving  afterwards 
thought  that  its  style  was  not  improved  by  the 
labor  thus  bestowed  on  it. 

"  While  engaged  on  his  Columbus  he  had  such 
frequent  occasion  to  examine  into  the  period  of 
history  covering  the  war  with  Granada,  that  his 
interest  in  the  chivalric  deeds  of  the  Spanish  and 
Moorish  knights  often  tempted  him  away  from 
his  work  in  hand,  to  peruse  the  narratives  of 
those  sturdy  warriors'  deeds.  He  at  last  threw 
Columbus  aside  for  a  few  \veeks,  and  took  up  the 
materials  which  had  so  interested  him,  preparing 
the  heads  of  chapters  and  making  notes  of  the 
sources  from  which  he  might  glean  additional 
facts.  After  the  Columbus  was  finished,  he  took 
them  up,  and  in  a  very  short  time  completed  his 
Conquest  of  Granada,  which  many  consider  a 
masterpiece  of  romantic  narrative. 

u  Some  other  materials,  relating  to  the  period 
of  Spanish  history  anterior  to  the  conquest  of 
Granada,  were  never  published.  He  was  always 
deeply  interested  in  these  matters,  and  had  for  a 
long  while  been  making  collections,  with  a  view 
to  writing  a  series  of  works,  beginning  with  a 
History  of  the  Caliphs,  following  this  up  by  the 
Domination  of  the  Moors  in  Spain,  arid  ending 
with  the  Conquest  of  Granada.  He  also  wished 
to  write  the  history  of  Charles  and  Philip,  and 
even  had  thought  of  the  Conquest  of  Mexico. 
The  materials  collected  for  these  last  works  he 
handed  over  to  Mr.  Prescott." 

At  a  convivial  meeting  in  London  of  the  lit 
erati,  it  was  once  suggested  to  Mr.  Irving  that 
he  should  undertake  a  translation  of  the  minor 


EDITS  MK.  BBYANT'S  POEMS  IN  LONDON. 


tales  of  the  author  of  Don  Quixote.  If  he  had 
acted  upon  the  hint,  he  would  have  added  a  few 
more  volumes  to  the  stock  of  English  literature: 
for  his  style  would,  in  a  measure,  have  made 
them  his  own.* 

In  July,  1829,  Mr.  Irving  left  Spain  for  Eng 
land,  having  heen  appointed  Secretary  of  Lega 
tion  to  the  American  Embassy  at  London,  when 
Mr.  M'Lane  was  minister.  He  retired  on  the 
arrival  of  Mr.  Van  Buren.  The  University  of 
Oxford  conferred  on  him,  in  1831,  the  degree 
LL.D. 

Before  leaving  England  on  his  return  to 
America,  he  edited  for  a  London  publisher,  in 
the  beginning  of  1832,  an  edition,  the  first  in 
England,  of  the  Poems  of  William  Cullen  Bryant. 
Though  unacquainted  with  Mr.  Bryant  at  the 
time,  lie  was  a  warm  admirer  of  his  writings; 
and  when  a  friend  sent  him  a  copy  from  home, 
with  a  desire  that  he  might  find  a  publisher  in 
England,  he  cheerfully  undertook  the  task.  A 
publisher  was  found,  who,  however,  made  it  a 
condition  that  Mr.  Irving  should  "write  some 
thing  that  might  call  public  attention  to  it."  In 
compliance  with  this  demand  for  a  gratuitous 
service,  Mr.  Irving  prefixed  the  following  dedi 
catory  letter  addressed  to  the  poet  Rogers : 

UTO    SAMUEL    KOGERS,    ESQ. 

u  My  dear  Sir, — During  an  intimacy  of  some 
years'  standing,  I  have  uniformly  remarked  a 
liberal  interest  on  your  part  in  the  rising  charac 
ter  and  fortunes  of  my  country,  and  a  kind  dis 
position  to  promote  the  success  of  American 
talent,  whether  engaged  in  literature  or  the  arts. 
I  am  induced,  therefore,  as  a  tribute  of  gratitude, 
as  well  as  a  general  testimonial  of  respect  and 
friendship,  to  lay  before  you  the  present  volume, 
in  which,  for  the  tirst  time,  are  collected  together 
the  fugitive  productions  of  one  of  our  living 
poets,  whose  writings  are  deservedly  popular 
throughout  the  United  Suites. 

u  Many  of  these  poems  have  appeared  at  vari 
ous  times  in  periodical  publications;  and  some 
of  them,  I  am  aware,  have  met  your  eye  and  re 
ceived  the  stamp  of  your  approbation.  They 
could  scarcely  fail  to  do  so,  characterized  as  they 
are  by  a  purity  of  moral,  an  elevation  and  re 
finement  of  thought,  and  a  terseness  and  ele 
gance  of  diction,  congenial  to  the  bent  of  your 
own  genius  and  to  your  cultivated  taste.  They 
appear  to  me  to  belong  to  the  best  school  of 
English  poetry,  and  to  be  entitled  to  rank  among 
the  highest  of  their  class. 

"  The  British  public  has  already  expressed  its 
delight  at  the  graphic  descriptions  of  American 
scenery  and  wild  woodland  characters  contained 

*  Biographical  Notice  of  Irving,  in  the  European  Magazine, 
March,  IS'25. 


'in  the  works  of  our  national  novelist,  Cooper. 
The  same  keen  eye  and  fresh  feeling  for  nature, 
the  same  indigenous  style  of  thinking  and  local 
peculiarity  of  imagery,  which  give  such  novelty 
and  interest  to  the  pages  of  that  gifted  writer, 
will  be  found  to  characterize  this  volume,  con 
densed  into  a  narrower  compass  and  sublimated 
into  poetry. 

"The  descriptive  writings  of  Mr.  Bryant  are 
essentially  American.  They  transport  us  into 
the  depths  of  the  solemn  primeval  forest — to  the 
shores  of  the  lonely  lake — the  banks  of  the  wild 
nameless  stream,  or  the  brow  of  the  rocky  up 
land,  rising  like  a  promontory  from  amidst  a 
wide  ocean  of  foliage ;  while  they  shed  around 
us  the  glories  of  a  climate,  fierce  in  its  extremes, 
but  splendid  in  all  its  vicissitudes.  His  close 
observation  of  the  phenomena  of  nature,  and  the 
graphic  felicity  of  his  details,  prevent  his  descrip 
tions  from  ever  becoming  general  and  common 
place  ;  while  he  has  the  gift  of  shedding  over 
them  a  pensive  grace,  that  blends  them  all  into 
harmony,  and  of  clothing  them  with  moral  asso 
ciations  that  make  them  speak  to  the  heart. 
Neither,  I  am  convinced,  will  it  be  the  least  of 
his  merits  in  your  eyes,  that  his  writings  are 
imbued  with  the  independent  spirit  and  the 
buoyant  aspirations  incident  to  a  youthful,  a 
free,  and  a  rising  country. 

"  It  is  not  my  intention,  however,  to  enter 
into  any  critical  comments  on  these  poems,  but 
merely  to  introduce  them,  through  your  sanction, 
to  the  British  public.  They  must  then  depend 
for  success  on  their  own  merits;  though  I  can 
not  help  flattering  myself  that  they  will  be  re 
ceived  as  pure  gems,  which,  though  produced  in 
a  foreign  clime,  are  worthy  of  being  carefully 
preserved  in  the  common  treasury  of  the  lan 
guage.  I  am,  my  dear  sir,  ever  most  faithfully 
yours,  WASHINGTON  IKYING. 

"London,  March,  1832." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  Poems  met  at 
once  with  a  most  cordial  reception.  Several  of 
them  had  been  much  admired  in  England  al 
ready;  but  the  entire  collection  established  at 
once  the  claims  of  the  American  poet. 

A  few  years  after  this  the  late  Mr.  Leggett, 
in  his  journal,  The  Plaindealer,  made  an  inci 
dent  connected  with  this  publication  the  subject 
of  an  unmannerly  attack.  It  seems  that  while 
the  Poems  were  going  through  the  press  in  Lon 
don,  the  publisher  strenuously  objected  to  a  line 
in  the  poem  entitled  "Marion's  Men,"  as  pecu 
liarly  olfensive  to  English  ears.  It  reads — 

And  the  British  foernan  trembles 
"When  Marion's  name  is  heard. 

Timid  objections  are  often  made  by  publishers, 
and  where  the  integrity  of  authorship  is  con- 


LETTER  TO  THE  PLAINDEALEE. 


cerned,  should  be  firmly  denied.  Mr.  Irving,  we 
think  unnecessarily  and  forgetful  of  an  important 
literary  principle,  and  that  he  had  no  authority 
in  the  matter,  yielded  to  the  publisher,  conceding 
to  an  objection  urged  with  a  show  of  kindness, 
what  he  probably  would  not  have  granted  un 
der  other  circumstances.  The  obnoxious  word 
u  British"  was  removed,  and  the  line  was  made 
to  i\-ad — 

The  foeman  trembles  in  his  camp. 

Mr.  Irving  was  roughly  handled  in  consequence 
by  Mr.  Leggett,  who  took  occasion  also,  at  the 
same  time,  to  charge  him  with  "  preparing,  in  a 
book  of  his  own,  one  preface  for  his  countrymen 
full  of  amor  patriot  and  professions  of  American 
feeling,  and  another  for  the  London  market  in 
which  all  such  professions  are  studiously  omit 
ted."  Mr.  Irving  sent  to  The  Plaindealer  a 
prompt  reply.  The  change  in  the  poem -was 
seen  to  have  grown  out  of  a  motive  of  kindness ; 
while  the  malign  charge  in  the  matter  of  the 
prefaces  was  easily  put  out  of  the  way.  The 
indignant  rebuke  shows  that  the  gentle  pen  of 
Geoffrey  Crayon,  when  roused  by  insult,  could 
cope  even  with  the  well-practised  and  somewhat 
reckless  energy  of  The  Plaindealer.  We  pre 
sent  this  portion  of  Mr.  Irving's  letter  entire: 

"Another  part  of  }7our  animadversions  is  of  a 
much  graver  nature,  for  it  implies  a  charge  of 
hypocrisy  and  double  dealing  which  I  indignant 
ly  repel  as  incompatible  with  my  nature.  You 
intimate  that  'in  publishing  a  book  of  my  own, 
I  prepare  one  preface  for  my  countrymen  full  of 
amor  patrice  and  professions  of  home  feeling,  and 
another  for  the  London  market  in  which  such 
professions  are  studiously  omitted.'  Your  infer 
ence  is  that  these  professions  are  hollow,  and 
intended  to  gain  favor  with  my  countrymen, 
and  that  they  are  omitted  in  the  London  edition 
through  fear  of  offending  English  readers.  Were 
I  indeed  chargeable  with  such  baseness,  I  should 
well  merit  the  contempt  you  invoke  upon  my 
head.  As  I  give  you  credit,  sir,  for  probity,  I 
was  at  a  loss  to  think  on  what  you  could  groun " 
such  an  imputation,  until  it  occurred  to  me  that 
some  circumstances  attending  the  publication  ol 
my  Tour  on  the  Prairies,  might  have  given  rise 
to  a  misconception  in  your  mind. 

u  It  may  seem  strange  to  those  intimately 
acquainted  with  my  character,  that  I  shouh 
think  it  necessary  to  defend  myself  from  a  charge 
uf  duplicity  ;  but  as  many  of  your  readers  may 
know  me  as  little  as  you  appear  to  do,  I  must 
again  be  excused  in  a  detail  of  facts. 

u  When  my  Tour  on  the  Prairies  was  readv 
for  the  press,  I  sent  a  manuscript  copy  to  Eng 
land  for  publication,  and  at  the  same  time,  put  a 
copy  in  the  press  at  New  York.  As  this  was  m\ 


irst  appearance  before  the  American  public 
since  my  return,  I  was  induced,  while  the  work 
was  printing,  to  modify  the  introduction  so  as  to 
express  my  sense  of  the  unexpected  warmth  with 
which  I  had  been  welcomed  to  my  native  place, 
and  my  general  feelings  on  finding  myself  once 
more  at  home,  and  among  my  friends.  These 
feelings,  sir,  were  genuine,  and  were  not  ex 
pressed  with  half  the  warmth  with  which  they 
were  entertained.  Circumstances  alluded  to  in 
that  introduction  had  made  the  reception  I  met 
with  from  my  countrymen,  doubly  dear  and 
touching  to  me,  and  had  filled  iny  heart  with 
affectionate  gratitude  for  their  unlooked-for 
kindness.  In  fact,  misconstructions  of  my  con 
duct  and  misconceptions  of  my  character,  some 
what  similar  to  those  I  am  at  present  endeavor 
ing  to  rebut,  had  appeared  in  the  public  press, 
and,  as  I  erroneously  supposed,  had  prejudiced 
the  mind  of  my  countrymen  against  me.  The 
professions  therefore  to  which  you  have  alluded, 
were  uttered,  not  to  obviate  such  prejudices,  or 
to  win  my  way  to  the  good  will  of  my  country 
men,  but  to  express  my  feelings  after  their  good 
will  had  been  unequivocally  manifested.  While 
I  thought  they  doubted  me,  I  remained  silent ; 
when  I  found  they  believed  in  me,  I  spoke.  I 
have  never  been  in  the  habit  of  beguiling  them 
by  fulsome  professions  of  patriotism,  those  cheap 
passports  to  public  favor ;  and  I  think  I  might 
for  once  have  been  indulged  in  briefly  touching 
a  chord,  on  which  others  have  harped  to  so  much 
advantage. 

u  Now,  sir,  even  granting  I  had  '  studiously 
omitted'  all  those  professions  in  the  introduction 
intended  for  the  London  market,  instead  of  giv 
ing  utterance  to  them  after  that  article  had  been 
sent  off,  where,  I  would  ask,  would  have  been 
the  impropriety  of  the  act?  What  had  the  Brit 
ish  public  to  do  with  those  home  greetings  and 
those  assurances  of  gratitude  and  affection  which 
related  exclusively  to  my  countrymen,  and  grew 
out  of  my  actual  position  with  regard  to  them? 
There  was  nothing  in  them  at  which  the  British 
reader  could  possibly  take  offence;  the  omitting 
of  them,  therefore,  could  not  have  argued  'ti 
midity,'  but  would  have  been  merely  a  matter  of 
good  taste;  for  they  would  have  been  as  much 
out  of  place  repeated  to  English  readers,  as 
would  have  been  my  greetings  and  salutations  to 
my  family  circle,  if  repeated  out  of  the  window 
for  the  benefit  of  the  passers-by  in  the  street. 

"  I  have  no  intention,  sir,  of  imputing  to  you 
any  malevolent  feeling  in  the  unlooked-for  attack 
you  have  made  upon  me:  I  can  see  no  motive 
you  have  for  such  hostility.  I  rather  think  you 
have  acted  from  honest  feelings,  hastily  excited 
by  a  misapprehension  of  facts;  and  that  you 
have  been  a  little  too  eager  to  give  an  instance 


THE  IKYING  DINNEK. 


of  that  'plaindealing'  which  you  Lave  recently 
adopted  as  your  war-cry.  Plaindealing,  sir,  is  a 
great  merit,  when  accompanied  by  magnanimity, 
and  exercised  with  a  just  and  generous  spirit; 
but  it'  pushed  too  far,  and  made  the  excuse  for 
indulging  every  impulse  of  passion  or  prejudice, 
it  may  render  a  man,  especially  in  your  situation, 
a  very  offensive,  if  not  a  very  mischievous  mem 
ber  of  the  community.  Such  I  sincerely  hope 
and  trust  may  not  be  your  case ;  but  this  hint, 
given  in  a  spirit  of  caution,  not  of  accusation, 
may  not  be  of  disservice  to  you. 

"In  the  present  instance  I  have  only  to  ask 
that  you  will  give  this  article  an  insertion  in 
your  paper,  being  intended  not  so  much  for 
yourself,  as  for  those  of  your  readers  who  may- 
have  been  prejudiced  against  me  by  your  ani 
madversions.  Your  editorial  position  of  course 
gives  you  an  opportunity  of  commenting  upon  it 
according  to  the  current  of  your  feelings ;  and, 
whatever  may  be  your  comments,  it  is  not  prob 
able  that  they  will  draw  any  further  reply  from 
me.  Recrimination  is  a  miserable  kind  of  re 
dress  in  which  I  never  indulge,  and  I  have  no 
relish  for  the  warfare  of  the  pen." 

With  all  the  gentleness  of  Geoffrey  Crayon, 
Mr.  Irving  was  a  high-spirited  man  where  honor, 
duty,  or  the  proprieties  were  at  stake. 

We  have  anticipated,  however,  the  course  of 
our  narrative;  for  this  correspondence  took  place 
in  1837. 

Mr.  Irving  arrived  in  America,  at  New  York, 
on  his  return,  May  21,  1832,  after  an  absence  of 
seventeen  years.  A  public  dinner  was  at  once 
projected  by  his  friends  and  the  most  eminent 
persons  of  the  city. 

-  It  took  place  at  the  City  Hotel  on  the  30th 
May.  Mr.  Irving  had  his  old  friend  and  literary 
associate,  Mr.  Paulding,  on  one  side,  and  Chan 
cellor  Kent  on  the  other.  Bishop  Onderdonk 
said  grace,  and  Dr.  "Wainwright  returned  thanks. 
Mr.  Gallatin  was  present,  with  many  foreign 
and  native  celebrities.*  Mr.  Verplanck  was  ab 
sent  at  the  session  of  Qongress.  The  President 
of  the  meeting,  Chancellor  Kent,  welcomed  the 
illustrious  guest  to  his  native  land,  in  a  speech  of 
good  taste  and  feeling.  His  appreciation  of 
Irving's  early  American  productions,  and  not 
less,  of  his  later,  was  warm  and  enthusiastic. 
The  History  of  Diedrich  Knickerbocker  has 

*  We  may  add  the  names  of  others  present  at  this  dinner, 
•who  offered  toasts:  Philip  Hone,  William  Turner,  Charles 
King,  Judge  Irving,  General  Santatuler,  Lt.-Gov.  Livingston, 
Chancellor  Will  worth,  General  Scott,  Commodore  Chauncey, 
William  A.  Duer,  M.  M.  Noah,  Prosper  M.  Wetmore,  James 
Lawsoo,  Charles  De  J5ehr,  Jesse  lloyt.  Henry  Wheaton,  Judge 
Huffman,  Le  Kay  de  Chauinont,  Vice  Chancellor  M'Coon,  ("hrden 
Hoffman,  J.  W.  Francis,  Mr.  Gener,  C.  W.  Sanford,  \V.  A.  M.-r- 
cein,  W.  P.  Hawes,  Captain  De  Peyster,  William  Leggett,  Wil 
liam  II.  Maxwell,  J.  Watson  Webb,  Professor  Benwick,  Samuel 
bwartwout,  John  Duer. 


never  found  a  heartier  eulogist.  The  venerable 
Chancellor  compared  it  with  Rabelais  and  Swift, 
and  brought  it  off  creditably ;  admiring  its 
laughter,  its  pointed  satire,  its  wit  and  humor, 
and,  above  all,  its  good-nature.  Mr.  Irving  re 
plied  with  a  touching  allusion  to  rumors  and 
suggestions  which  had  reached  him  abroad,  to 
the  effect  that  absence  had  impaired  the  kind 
feelings  of  his  countrymen,  and  that  they  had 
considered  him  alienated  in  heart  from  his  native 
land.  He  had.  he  said,  been  fully  disabused  of 
this  impression,  by  the  universal  kindness  which 
greeted  him  on  his  arrival.  He  then  turned  to 
the  prosperity  of  the  city.  "  Never,  certainly," 
said  he,  "  did  a  man  return  to  his  native  place 
after  so  long  an  absence,  under  happier  auspices. 
As  to  my  native  city,  from  the  time  I  approach 
ed  the  coast  I  had  indications  of  its  growing 
greatness.  We  had  scarce  descried  the  land, 
when  a  thousand  sails  of  all  descriptions  gleam 
ing  along  the  horizon,  and  all  standing  to  or 
from  one  point,  showed  that  we  were  in  the 
neighborhood  of  a  vast  commercial  emporium. 
As  I  sailed  up  our  beautiful  bay,  with  a  heart 
swelling  with  old  recollections  and  delightful 
associations,  I  was  astonished  to  see  its  once 
wild  features  brightening  with  populous  villages 
and  noble  piles,  and  a  seeming  city  extending 
itself  over  heights  I  had  left  covered  with  green 
forests.*  But  how  shall  I  describe  my  emotions 
when  our  city  rose  to  sight,  seated  in  the  midst 
of  its  water}7  domain,  stretching  away  to  a  vast 
extent;  when  I  beheld  a  glorious  sunshine  light 
ing  up  the  spires  and  domes,  some  familiar  to 
memory,  others  new  and  unknown,  and  beam 
ing  upon  a  forest  of  masts  of  every  nation,  ex 
tending  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  ?  I  have 
gazed  with  admiration  upon  many  a  fair  city  and 
stately  harbor,  but  my  admiration  was  cold  and 
ineffectual,  for  I  was  a  stranger,  and  had  no 
property  in  the  soil.  Here,  however,  my  heart 
throbbed  with  pride  and  joy  as  I  admired.  I 
had  a  birthright  in  the  brilliant  scene  before  me  : 
1  This  was  my  own,  my  native  land  !' 

u  It  has  been  asked  can  I  be  content  to  live  in 
this  country  ?  Whoever  asks  that  question  must 
have  but  an  inadequate  idea  of  its  blessings  and 
delights.  What  sacrifice  of  enjoyments  have  I  to 
reconcile  myself  to  ?  I  come  from  gloomier 
climes  to  one  of  brilliant  sunshine  and  inspiring 
purity.  I  come  from  countries  lowering  with 
doubt  and  danger,  where  the  rich  man  trembles, 
and  the  poor  man  frowns — where  all  repine  at 
the  present,  and  dread  the  future.  I  come  from 
these  to  a  country  where  all  is  life  and  anima 
tion  ;  where  I  hear  on  every  side  the  sound  of 
exultation ;  where  every  one  speaks  of  the  past 


*  The  allusion  probably  was  to  Brooklyn. 


XV 


PERSONAL  HISTORY  OF  "  ASTORIA." 


with  triumph,  the  present  with  delight,  the  fu 
ture  with  glowing  and  confident  anticipation. 
Is  not  this  a  community  in  which  we  may  re 
joice  to  live?  Is  not  this  a  city  by  which  one 
may  be  proud  to  be  received  as  the  son  ?  Is 
this  not  a  land  in  which  one  may  be  happy  to 
fix  his  destiny  and  ambition — if  possible,  to 
found  a  name? 

"  I  am  asked,  how  long  I  mean  to  remain 
here?  They  know  but  little  of  my  heart  or  my 
feelings  who  can  ask  me  this  question.  I  an 
swer,  as  long  as  I  live." 

It  was  some  time  before  the  plaudits  ceased 
sufficiently  for  him  to  utter  his  toast :  "  Our 
City — May  God  continue  to  prosper  it." 

A  few  months  later,  in  the  summer,  Mr.  Irving 
accompanied  Mr.  Ellsworth,  one  of  the  commis 
sioners  for  removing  the  Indian  tribes  west  of 
the  Mississippi,  in  his  journey,  which  he  has 
described  in  his  Tour  on  the  Prairies,  published 
in  the  Crayon  Miscellany  in  1835.  His  Abbots- 
ford  and  Newstead  Abbey  formed  another  volume 
of  the  series.  In  1836  he  published  his  Astoria, 
or  Anecdotes  of  an  Enterprise  beyond  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  undertaken  by  the  late  Mr.  John 
Jacob  Astor,  between  the  years  1810  and  the 
war  with  England  of  1812.  He  was  attracted  to 
the  subject  not  less  by  an  early  fondness  for  the 
character  of  the  trappers  and  voyageurs  of  the 
West,  into  whose  company  he  had  been  thrown 
in  his  youth,  in  Canada,  than  by  his  subsequent 
acquaintance  with  the  projector  of  the  enter 
prise.  He  was  assisted  in  the  preparation  of 
this  work  by  his  nephew,  Mr.  Pierre  Munro 
Irving.  Many  years  after  this  publication  was 
issued  a  statement  was  made,  under  circum 
stances  which  seemed  to  challenge  the  attention 
of  Mr.  Irving,  imputing  the  glorification  of  Mr. 
Astor  as  a  motive  for  the  work,  with  the  ac 
companying  stimulus  of  a  large  sum  of  money 
paid  by  the  millionaire.  Mr.  Irving  availed  him 
self  of  the  opportunity  to  give  the  history  of  the 
book.  The  letter  is  of  sufficient  interest,  involv 
ing  as  it  does  several  honorable  personal  traits  of 
character,  no  less  than  a  detail  of  literary  his 
tory,  to  be  presented  entire.  We  give  it  as  it 
appeared  in  the  Literary  World  of  Nov.  22, 1851. 

"  CORRECTION  OF  A  MISSTATEMENT  RESPECTING 
1  ASTORIA.' 

"  To  the  Editors  of  the  Literary  World. 

"  GENTLEMEN — A  quotation  from.  Mr.  School- 
craft's  work  in  your  last  number  has  drawn  from 
me  the  following  note  to  that  gentleman,  which 
I  will  thank  you  to  insert  in  your  next. 
u  Yours  very  truly, 

"Nov.  10, 1S51.  WASHINGTON  IRVING." 


"  To  Henry  R.  Sr«m//V.  /•>/. 

"SUNNYSIDK,  NOV.  10,  1851. 

"DEAR  SIR — In  your  Personal  Maimirs,  re 
cently  published,  you  give  a  conversation  with 
the  late  Albert  Gallatin,  Esq.,  in  the  course  of 
which  he  made  to  you  the  following  statement: 

u  'Several  years  ago  John  Jacob  Astor  put 
into  my  hands  the  journal  of  his  traders  on  the 
Columbia,  desiring  me  to  use  it.  I  put  it  into 
the  hands  of  Malte-Brun,  at  Paris,  who  employed 
the  geographical  facts  in  his  work,  but  paid  but 
little  respect  to  Mr.  Astor,  whom  he  regarded 
merely  as  a  merchant  seeking  his  own  profit,  and 
not  a  discoverer.  He  had  not  even  sent  a  man 
to  observe  the  facts  in  the  natural  history. 
Astor  did  not  like  it.  He  Avas  restive  several 
years,  and  then  gave  Washington  Irving  $5000 
to  take  up  the  MSS,  This  'is  the  History  of 
Astoria? 

"  Now,  sir,  I  beg  to  inform  you  that  this  is 
not  the  History  of  Astoria.  Mr.  Gallatin  was 
misinformed  as  to  the  part  he  has  assigned  me 
in  it.  The  work  was  undertaken  by  me  through 
a  real  relish  of  the  subject.  In  the  course  of 
visits  in  early  life  to  Canada,  I  had  seen  much 
of  the  magnates  of  the  Northwest  Company,,  and 
of  the  hardy  trappers  and  fur-traders  in  their 
employ,  and  had  been  excited  by  their  stories  of 
adventurous  expeditions  into  the  '  Indian  coun 
try.'  I  was  sure,  therefore,  that  a  narrative, 
treating  of  them  and  their  doings,  could  not  fail 
to  be  full  of  stirring  interest,  and  to  lay  open 
regions  and  races  of  our  country  as  yet  but  little 
known.  I  never  asked  nor  received  of  Mr.  Astor 
a  farthing  on  account  of  the  work.  lie  paid  my 
nephew,  who  was  then  absent  practising  law  in 
Illinois,  for  coming  on,  examining,  and  collating 
manuscript  journals,  accounts,  and  other  docu 
ments,  and  preparing  what  lawyers  would  call  a 
brief,  for  me.  Mr.  Fitzgreene  Halleck,  who  was 
with  Mr.  Astor  at  the  time,  determined  what  the 
compensation  of  my  nephew  ought  to  be.  When 
the  brief  was  finished,  1  paid  my  nephew  an  ad 
ditional  consideration  on  my  own  account,  and 
out  of  my  own  purse.  It  was  the  compensation 
paid  by  Mr.  Astor  to  my  nephew  which  Mr.  Gal 
latin  may  have  heard  of,  and  supposed  it  was 
paid  to  myself;  but  even  in  that  case,  the  amount, 
as  reported  to  him,  was  greatly  exaggerated. 

u  Mr.  Astor  signified  a  wish  to  have  the  work 
brought  out  in  a  superior  style,  supposing  that  it 
was  to  be  done  at  his  expense.  I  replied  that  it 
must  be  produced  in  the  style  of  my  other  works, 
and  at  my  expense  and  risk  ;  and  that  whatever 
profit  I  was  to  derive  from  it  must  be  from  its 
sale  and  my  bargain  with  the  publishers.  This 
is  the  true  History  of  Astoria,  as  far  as  I  was 
concerned  in  it. 

"During  my  long  intimacy   with  Mr.  Astor, 


COMPLIMENT  FROM  DANIEL  WEBSTEK. 


commencing  when  I  was  a  ^young  man,  and  end 
ing  only  with  his  death,  I  never  came  under  a 
pecuniary  obligation  to  him  of  any  kind.  At  a 
time  of  public  pressure,  when,  having  invested  a 
part  of  my  very  moderate  means  in  wild  lands, 
I  was  straitened  and  obliged  to  seek  accommo- 
dationsfrom  moneyed  institutions,  he  repeatedly 
urged  me  to  accept  loans  from  him,  but  I  always 
declined..  He  was  too  proverbially  rich  a  man 
for  me  to  permit  the  shadow  of  a  pecuniary  favor 
to  rest  on  our  intercourse. 

"The  only  moneyed  transaction  between  us  was 
my  purchase  of  a  share  in  a  town  he  was  found 
ing  at  Green  Bay;  for  that  I  paid  cash,  though 
he  wished  the  amount  to  stand  on  mortgage. 
The  land  fell  in  value;  and  some  years  after 
wards,  when  I  was  in  Spain,  Mr.  Astor,  of  his 
own  free-will,  took  back  the  share  from  my 
agent,  and  repaid  the  original  purchase-money. 
This,  I  repeat,  was  the  only  moneyed  transaction 
that  ever  took  place  between  us  ;  and  by  this  I 
lost  four  or  five  years'  interest  of  my  investment. 

"  My  intimacy  with  Mr.  A.  was  perfectly  in 
dependent  and  disinterested.  It  was  sought  ori 
ginally  on  his  part,  and  grew  up,  on  mine,  out 
of  the  friendship  he  spontaneously  manifested 
for  me,  and  the  confidence  he  seemed  to  repose 
in  me.  It  was  drawn  closer  when,  in  the  prose 
cution  of  my  literary  task,  I  became  acquainted, 
from  his  papers  and  his  confidential  conversa 
tions,  with  tlve  scope  and  power  of  his  mind, 
and  the  grandeur  of  his  enterprises.  His  noble 
project  of  the  ASTOR  LIBRARY,  conceived  about 
the  same  time,  and  which  I  was  solicitous  he 
should  carry  into  execution  during  his  lifetime, 
was  a  still  stronger  link  of  intimacy  between  us. 

"  He  was  altogether  one  of  the  most  remark 
able  men  I  have  ever  known :  of  penetrating 
sagacity,  massive  intellect,  and  possessing  ele 
ments  of  greatness  of  which  the  busy  world 
around  him  was  little  aware ;  who,  like  Malte- 
Brun,  regarded  him  '"merely  as  a  merchant  seek 
ing  his  own  profit.' 

"  Very  respectfully,  your  friend  and  servant, 
"  WASHINGTON  IRVING." 

Though  made  up  from  the  most  unpromising 
material  of  a  commercial  correspondence  fre 
quently  carried  on  under  great  disadvantages, 
with  gaps  and  deficiences  which  had  to  be  sup 
plied  from  the  scanty  stock  of  published  travels 
in  the  West,  the  sldll  of  the  writer  overcame  all 
difficulties.  His  own  conception  of  the  artistical 
requirements  of  the  subject,  happily  fulfilled  by 
his  adroit  pen,  is  expressed  in 'the  concluding 
paragraph  of  the  Introduction : — "  The  work  I 
here  present  to  the  public  is  necessarily  of  a 
rambling  and  somewhat  disjointed  nature,  com 
prising  various  expeditions  and  adventures  by 
3 


land  and  sea.  The  facts,  however,  will  prove 
to  be  linked  and  banded  together  by  one  great 
scheme,  devised  and  conducted  by  a  master 
spirit ;  one  set  of  characters,  also,  continues 
throughout,  appearing  occasionally,  though  some 
times  at  long  intervals,  and  the  whole  enterprise 
winds  up  by  a  regular  catastrophe ;  so  that  the 
work,  without  any  labored  attempt  at  artificial 
construction,  actually  possesses  much  of  that 
variety  so  much  sought  after  in  works  of  fiction, 
and  considered  so  important  to  the  interest  of 
every  history." 

Another  undertaking  of  a  similar  character 
was  the  Adventures  of  Captain  Bonneville, 
U.S.A.,  in  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  the  Far 
West,  prepared  from  the  MSS.  of  that  traveller, 
but  made  an  original  work  by  the  observation 
and  style  of  the  writer. 

Commencing  with  1839,  for  the  two  following 
years,  Mr.  Irving  contributed  a  series  of  papers 
monthly  to  the  Knickerbocker  Magazine.  Among 
these  tales  and  sketches  are  two  narratives  of 
some  length,  The  Early  Experiences  of  Ralph 
Ring  wood,  and  Mountjoy,  or  some  Passages  out 
of  the  Life  of  a  Castle  Builder.  A  number  of 
these  papers,  with  some  others  from  the  English 
Annuals  and  other  sources,  were  collected  in 
1855  in  a  volume,  with  the  title  of  Wolf  erf  s 
Roost. 

In  February,  1842,  Mr.  Irving  was  appointed 
Minister  to  Spain,  an  office  which  he  occupied 
for  the  next  four  years.  The  nomination  was 
entirely  unsought  for,  and  was  a  compliment 
paid  him  by  Daniel  Webster,  who  announced  it 
to  him  in  a  dispatch  bearing  his  honorary  title. 
It  was  the  first  notice  he  received  of  it.  On  his 
return  to  America  he  took  up  his  permanent 
residence  at  his  cottage,  "Sunnyside,"  near  Tar 
ry  town,  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  the  very 
spot  which  he  had  described  years  before  in  the 
"Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow,"  as  the  castle  of  the 
Herr  van  Tassel,  and  of  the  neighborhood  of 
which  he  had  said: — "If  ever  I  should  wish  for 
a  retreat,  whither  I  might  steal  from  the  world 
and  its  distractions,  and  dream  quietly  away  the 
remainder  of  a  troubled  life,  I  know  of  none 
more  promising  than  this  little  valley."  At  this 
retreat,  looking  out  upon  the  river  which  he 
loved  so  well,  he  continued  to  live,  in  the  midst 
of  a  family  circle  composed  of  his  brother  and 
his  nieces,  hospitably  entertaining  his  friends, 
occasionally  visiting  different  portions  of  the 
country,  and  employing  his  pen  in  the  composi 
tion  of  his  Life  of  Washington,  the  last  volume 
of  which  passed  through  the  press  the  present 
year.  The  preparation  of  this  great  work,  the 
publication  of  Oliver  Goldsmith,  a  Biography, 
i  an  enlargement  of  a  life  which  he  had  prefixed 
I  to  an  edition  in  Paris  of  that  author's  works, 

xvil 


THE  LIFE  OF  WASHINGTON. 


adapting  the  researches  of  Prior  and  Forster, 
and  a  revised  edition  of  his  own  writings  pub 
lished  by  Putnam,  of  which  several  of  the  vol 
umes  have  been  issued  in  a  more  costly  form, 
enriched  by  the  vigorous  and  refined  designs  of 
Darley,  were  the  literary  employments  of  his 
closing  years.  His  retirement  at  Suimyside  was 
all  that  his  youthful  fancy  painted,  and  more 
than  experience  of  the  world  could  have  prom 
ised.  His  age  was  not  exempt  from  infirmities  ; 
but  it  was  spared  many  of  the  sufferings  common 
to  mortality.  And  when  he  came  to  die,  his  soul 
passed  to  heaven  the  nearest  way.  His  death, 
on  the  night  of  November  28,  1859,  when  he  had 
just  retired  from  his  cheerful  family  circle,  was 
instantaneous. 

We  now  return  to  the  concluding  literary  la 
bor  of  the  life  we  have  thus  traced  to  its  close. 

The  preface  to  the  first  volume  of  the  Wash 
ington  bears  date  1855.  Two  volumes  were 
published,  in  that  year;  a  third  in  the  following; 
a  fourth  in  1857;  the  fifth,  and  concluding  por 
tion,  in  1859.  It  was  the  completion  of  a  work 
to  which,  in  his  own  words  prefixed  to  the  last 
volume,  "  the  author  had  long  looked  forward  as 
the  crowning  effort  of  his  literary  career."  Con 
tinuing  this  retrospect,  Mr.  Irving  relates  that 
"  the  idea  of  writing  a  life  of  Washington  entered 
at  an  early  day  into  his  mind.  It  was  especially 
pressed  upon  his  attention  nearly  thirty  years 
ago,  while  he  was  in  Europe,  by  a  proposition  of 
the  late  Mr.  Archibald  Constable,  the  eminent 
publisher  of  Edinburgh,  and  he  resolved  to  un 
dertake  it  as  soon  as  he  should  return  to  the 
United  States,  and  be  within  reach  of  the  neces 
sary  documents."  The  purpose  was  never  lost 
sight  of,  though  the  work  was  postponed.  If 
there  was  any  expiation  due  the  delay,  th.e  author 
paid  the  penalty  in  the  increasing  difficulty  of 
the  theme.  Thirty  years  ago  less  would  have 
been  demanded  by  the  public  in  the  performance 
of  such  a  work.  A  thoroughly  scientific  school 
of  historians  had  sprung  up  in  the  interval.  The 
collection  of  facts  by  the  historical  societies  and 
other  agencies  imposed  new  exactions  in  the 
weighing  of  evidence.  Each  addition  to  the  vast 
Washington  library  brought  additional  care  and 
responsibility.  Researches  of  this  nature  may, 
indeed,  he  benefited  by  the  judgment  of  age;  but 
the  labor  would  seem  to  require  the  strength  and 
enthusiasm  of  youth. 

The  writer,  no  doubt,  found  the  undertaking  a 
very  different  one  from  that  which  presented  it 
self  to  his  mind,  on  his  first  conception  of  the 
idea  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Constable.  There 
were  sterner  requisitions,  as  we  have  said,  to  be 
met ;  and  there  was  also  a  spectre  of  his  own 
raising  to  be  encountered,  the  shadow  of  his 
fame.  But,  whatever  the  struggle,  it  was  .man- 

xviii 


fully  borne  by  the  author,  who  sacrificed  well- 
earned  ease  and  leisure,  with  no  other  stimulus 
than  the  sense  of  duty,  and  with  which  we  may 
associate  the  impulse  of  genius,  performing  a 
great  part,  if  not  the  whole,  of  his  allotted  work 
after  he  had  attained  the  age  of  threescore  and 
ten.  There  are  few  more  cheering  instances  of 
literary  activity  in  the  whole  history  of  author 
ship.  We  have  frequently  thought,  as  our  eye 
rested  on  the  narrative,  that  the  author  needed 
all  the  encouragement  to  be  derived  from  the 
conscientiousness  and  sense  of  duty  of  his  great 
subject.  There  stood  above  the  page  the  awful 
shade  of  Washington,  with  warning  finger  point 
ing  the  way  his  historian  should  follow.  The 
monition  was  not  unheeded.  The  history  is 
such  a  one  as '  Washington  himself,  were  he 
privileged  or  condemned  to  revisit  the  scene  of 
his  earthly  cares  and  anxieties,  the  country 
which  he  loved,  the  people  for  whom  he  gravely 
toiled,  would,  we  think,  calmly  approve  of. 

The  qualities  of  Washington  in  the  book  are 
its  simple,  straightforward  manner;  its  dignity 
and  reserve,  associated  with  care  and  candor,  its 
paramount  truthfulness.  It  is  scarcely  possible 
that  a  work  of  the  kind  could  be  written  with 
greater  absence  of  display  or  personal  pretension 
on  the  part  of  the  writer.  The  labor  of  rejection 
must  have  been  great,  where  the  material  was 
overwhelming.  The  forbearance  and  self-denial, 
the  avoidance  of  the  sin  of  surplusage,  can  be 
fully  estimated  only  by  one  who  has  made  the 
prevalent  characteristics  and  vices  of  the  litera 
ture  of  the  day  a  study.  There  are  eloquent, 
profound,  learned  works  in  abundance;  but  a 
well-written  book  is  a  great  rarity.  We  are  not 
aware  that  Mr.  Irving  goes  out  of  his  way  to 
make  a  point,  indulge  in  an  unnecessary  digres 
sion,  or  yield,  in  a  single  instance,  to  the  temp 
tation  to  description,  which  last  must,  at  times, 
have  sorely  beset  his  pen.  He  never  stops  in  his 
steady  movement  to  attitudinize,  to  strike  a  po 
sition,  arouse  the  attention  of  his  reader  with 
"Here  we  are!"  like  the  mountebank  in  the 
ring,  or  violate  in  any  manner  the  sober  pace  of 
history.  Great  men  come  and  depart  noiselessly 
on  the  plain  republican  stage,  trumpeted  by  no 
rhetorical  blare  of  adjectives;  their  acts  only  be 
tray  their  presence.  There  are  no  set  attempts, 
no  efforts  for  effect.  A  half  reflection  inwrought 
with  the  progress  of  the  sentence,  a  single  epi 
thet  does  all — and  the  whole  is  any  thing  but  a 
barren  recital.  It  is  the  charm  of  the  writings 
of  Washington  himself,  where  we  are  impressed 
by  the  truthfulness  and  pleased  by  a  certain 
native  gracefulness — a  plain  thing  like  the 
clown's  mistress,  but  his  own.  Little,  winning 
idiomatic  touches  frequently  appear  in  the  com 
position  ;  but  it  has  also  the  higher  merit  of 


COPYRIGHTS. — FRIENDSHIP  WITH  ARTISTS. 


dramatic  unity  and  steady  progress.  Washing 
ton  is  the  central  personage,  never  far  distant, 
always  inspiring  and  directing  the  scene :  he 
appears  firmly  planted  amidst  the  historical  ele 
ments  of  his  people  and  country. 

Mr.  Irving  always  received  handsome  sums  for 
his  copyrights.  In  1850  it  began  to  he  doubted 
in  England  whether  the  copyright  of  a  book  by 
an  American  or  alien  could  be  held  by  a  British 
publisher,  and  Irving's  works  were  boldly  taken 
from  Murray,  and  issued  in  cheap  editions  by 
Bohn  &  Routledge.  The  legal  question  was  car 
ried  into  the  Court  of  Chancery,  and  the  plea 
was  at  least  meditated  by  Mr.  Murray,  that  Mr. 
Irving  was  not  an  alien,  his  father  being  a  native 
of  the  Orkneys,  and  his  mother  of  Falmouth. 
The  absurdity  of  this  pretence  to  citizenship — 
with  which,  of  course,  Mr.  Irving  had  nothing 
to  do — in  behalf  of  an  American  who  had  held 
military  rank  in  a  war  with  Great  Britain,  was 
at  once  apparent.  What  stood  in  the  way,  it 
was  asked,  if  he  were  a  British  subject,  of  taking 
him  from  Westminster  Hall,  as  a  rebel,  to  a 
court-martial,  and  ordering  him  to  be  shot ! 

A  more  pertinent  plea  was  Mr.  Murray's  long 
previous  undisputed  enjoyment  of  the  copyrights, 
and  a  statement  of  the  sums  he  had  paid  for 
them.  As  given  in  the  London  Athenceum  of  I  erlocker's  History  of  New  York,  which  were  en- 


said,  have  paid  to  the  author  seventy-five  thou 
sand  dollars.  They  owe  much  to  the  good  taste 
of  the  publisher,  especially  in  the  illustrated 
series. 

Mr.  Allibone,  who,  in  his  "Critical  Diction 
ary,"  has  infused  a  loving  spirit  into  his  compre 
hensive  bibliographical  details  of  the  writings  of 
Irving,  pays  a  just  tribute  to  his  publisher,  Mr. 
Putnam, — "a  gentleman  who,  by  his  extensive 
circulation  of  sound  literature  for  many  years 
both  in  Europe  and  America,  has  honestly  earned 
the  title  of  a  benefactor  to  the  public  mind."  A 
letter  from  Mr.  Irving  to  Mr.  Putnam,  expresses 
a  still  more  intimate  and  cordial  sentiment.  "I 
take  pleasure,"  he  writes,  "in  expressing  the 
great  satisfaction  I  have  derived  throughout  all 
our  intercourse,  from  your  amiable,  obliging,  and 
honorable  conduct.  Indeed,  I  never  had  dealings 
with  any  man,  whether  in  the  way  of  business  or 
friendship,  more  perfectly  free  from  any  alloy." 

Mr.  Irving  was  throughout  life  fortunate  in  his 
friendships  with  artists,  who  were  attracted  by 
the  man,  no  less  than  his  picturesque  books,  for 
subjects  for  their  pencil.  His  friend,  the  Acade 
mician  Leslie,  who  had  much  in  common  with 
his  genius,  designed  for  Murray  a  series  of  ten 
plates  to  illustrate  The  Sketch  Book,  and  Knick- 


Ang.  24,  1850,  they  were  as  follows : 

Sketch  Book £467  10*. 

Braceb ridge  Hall 1 ,050     0 

Tales  of  a  Traveller 1,575     0 

Life  of  Columbus 3,150     0 

Companions  of  Columbus 525     0 

Conquest  of  Granada 2,100     0 

Tour  on  the  Prairies 400     0 

Abbotsford  and  Newstead 400     0 

Legends  of  Spain 100     0 

footing  up  the  respectable  sum  of  .  .9,767  10 

Mr.  Bentley  also  published  a  statement  of  the 
sums  paid  by  him  to  Irving,  in  conjunction  with 
his  partner,  Colburn.  They  were,  for  the  copy 
right  of  the  Alhambra,  £1,050 ;  for  Astoria, 
£500 ;  for  Captain  Bonnexille's  Adventures, 
£900. 

Nor  were  his*  copyrights  of  late  less  remunera 
tive  in  America.  In  a  recent  statement  it  is 
snid,  that  within  the  last  ten  years — the  period  of 
the  revised  edition  of  his  works — there  have 
been  sold  twenty-two  thousand  sets  of  fifteen 
volumes  each,  exclusive  of  the  Life  of  Washing 


ton,  and  The  Sketch  Book ;  while  of  the  latter 
thirty -five  thousand  copies  have  been  distributed, 
and  of  the  Washington  forty-two  thousand  sets 
of  five  volumes  each — a  total  of  five  hundred 
and  seventy-five  thousand  volumes  disposed  of 
by  Mr.  George  P.  Putnam,  the  publisher  of  the 
works  since  1849. 


graved  by  the  best  artists  of  the  day.  He  also 
introduced  a  portrait  of  his  friend  in  his  Roger 
de  Coverly  picture.  Allston,  likewise,  made  il 
lustrations  for  the  Knickerbocker.  Heath,  the 
engraver,  drew  a  humorous  design  of  the  march 
of  the  great  Amsterdam  army  to  the  attack  of 
Fort  Casimir,  from  the  original  of  which,  pre 
served  at  Sunnyside,  an  engraving  was  publish 
ed  by  Mr.  Putnam.  He  also  engraved  a  choice 
series  of  Illustrations  of  the  Sketch  Book,  from 
designs  by  Westall.  George  Cruikshank  also 
made  several  capital  pictures  for  an  edition  of 
Knickerbocker,  published  in  the  "Family  Libra 
ry,"  and  also  quite  a  number  of  very  felicitous  de 
signs,  chiefly  from  Salmagundi,  and  the  Knick 
erbocker,  which  appeared  in  an  elegant  little  vol 
ume,  by  Tegg,  of  London,  entitled  The  Beauties 
of  Washington  Irving.  Of  the  American  de 
signs,  by  Mr.  Darley,  much  might  be* said,  par 
ticularly  of  the  two  series  of  "  Sleepy  Hollow," 
and  "  Rip  Van  Winkle,"  issued  by  the  American 
Art  Union.  They  seize  with  a  firm  grasp,  and 
an  individuality  of  their  own,  the  stronger  and 
deeper  elements  of  Mr.  Irving's  pathos  and 


humor.  They  are  full  of  grace  and  feeling,  and 
are  something  more  than  interpreters  of  the 
author, — they  are  revelations  of  the  artist's  own 
mind. 

Washington  Irving  was  so  luck}*  in  his  choice 
of  subjects,  and  treated  them  so  happily,  that  his 

These  various  editions,  it  is  I  name  and  fame  are  associated  with  some  of  the 

xix 


AT  THE  ALHAMBRA. — LOVE  OF  THE  HUDSON. 


most  enduring  objects  of  interest  about  the 
world.  At  Stratford-upon-Avon,  the  traveller, 
sitting  down  at  the  cheerful  fireside  of  mine  host 
of  the  "  Red  Lion,"  may,  if  he  will,  wield  "  the 
sceptre  of  Geoffrey  Crayon ;"  when  the  traditional 
poker  with  which  that  pleasant  tourist  stirred 
the  fire,  hearing  that  identical  inscription,  is  put 
into  his  hands,  witli  a  well-thumbed  copy  of  the 
Sketch-Book^  in  which  it  is  all  written  down,  as 
voucher.  The  incident  happened  to  ourself,  and 
we  presume  the  custom  will  be  perpetuated  to  a 
late  posterity,  with  the  memories  of  the  u  Red 
Lion  Inn" — for  inns  in  England  have  a  long  life. 
Next  to  the  birthplace  of  Shakspeare,  the  fancy 
of  the  world  nestles  in  the  quaint  galleries,  pil 
lared  courts,  and  carved  recesses  of  the  Al ham- 
bra — the  deserted  home  of  a  fallen  race,  dear  to 
the  imagination  in  a  land  of  poetry.  Washing 
ton  Irving  is  firmly  installed  in  the  traditions  of 
the  place,  and  will  doubtless,  in  time,  become  a 
myth,  with  King  Chico  and  the  rest.  A  traveller 
who  recently  visited  the  Alhambra  was  immedi 
ately  taken  possession  of,  upon  his  arrival  at 
Granada,  by  a  youth  of  the  town,  who  produced 
his  plenipotentiary  powers  over  English-speak 
ing  strangers  in  the  following  card: 


JOSE  JIMENEZ, 

(SON  OF  MATEO  JIMENEZ, 

GUIDE  TO  "WASHINGTON  IKVING,) 

A  NATIVE 

OF  THE  ALIIAMBRA, 

RESPECTFULLY  offers  his  services,  to  ac 
company  Strangers,  Travellers  and  vi 
sitors^,  to  the  Palace  of  the  Alhambra 
and  the  environs  of  the  above  named 
Capital;  for  which  his  intimate  acquain- 
lance  with  the  antiquities  and  beauties 
which  distinguish  GRANADA,  eminen 
tly  qualify  him. 

The  Irving  traditions  were  rife  in  his  mind. 
He  pointed  out  Geoffrey  Crayon's  apartments, 


and  narrated  how  he  was  accustomed  to  pass  his 
evenings  with  Mateo,  Tia  Antonio,  and  Dolores, 
exciting  their  powers  of  story-telling,  listening 
to  their  recitals,  and  reviving  their  flagging 
memory  or  invention  by  a  good  supper  when 
the  night  wore  on.  It  was  pleasant  to  hear  how 
good  Geoffrey  had  given  a  marriage  portion  to 
that  "  little,  plump,  black-eyed  Andalusian  dam 
sel  Dolores." 

Our  traveller  visited  Mateo,  of  course,  and 
found  him  a  quiet,  slow,  soft-spoken,  good-look 
ing  old  man,  such  as  his  beneficent  guest  would 
be  inclined  to  cotton  to.  He  saw,  in  fact,  Wash 
ington  Irving  firmly  rooted  in  the  pockets  and 
affections  of  the  tribe,  a  sort  of  family  estate  or 
heirloom  handed  down  from  father  to  son. 

If  these  are  slight,  though  agreeable  incidents 
to  travellers,  home-keepers  are  not  forgetful  of 
these  haunts  of  the  imagination.  They,  too,  re 
member  what  they  owe  to  Irving;  and  they  have 
other  claims  upon  their  sympathy  in  the  biog 
raphies  of  Goldsmith,  of  Columbus,  and  Washing 
ton.  It  is  something  to  be  associated  with  these 
names,  and  leave  behind  all  baser  matter. 

We  might  linger,  too,  upon  the  nationality  of 
Irving's  descriptions  of  American  nature;  of  the 
fortunate  turn  his  mind  took  to  the  great  western 
regions  of  the  American  continent  before  they 
were  invaded  by  the  advancing  pioneers  of  civil 
ization  :  we  might  say  much  of  the  fancy  and 
humor  with  which  he  has  invested  his  native 
island  and  city  :  and  no  reader  of  his  writings 
can  forget  his  love  of  the  noble  river  which 
flowed  by  his  doorway,  which  had  temp'ted  his 
youthful  imagination  with  its  magic  wonders — 
which  had  been  fondly  remembered  by  him  in 
distant  lands  as  he  traced  it  in  description — 
which  was  the  solace  of  his  age,  and  glowed, 
deeply  dyed  in  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  at  his 
burial.  "I  thank  God,"  he  wrote  in  his  later 
years,  "  that  I  was  born  on  the  banks  of  the 
Hudson.  I  fancy  I  can  trace  much  of  what  is 
good  and  pleasant  in  my  own  heterogeneous 
compound  to  my  early  companionship  with  thia 
glorious  river.  In  the  warmth  of  youthful  en 
thusiasm,  I  used  to  clothe  it  with  moral  attri 
butes,  and,  as  it  were,  give  it  a  sbul.  I  delighted 
in  its  frank,  bold,  honest  character;  its  noble 
sincerity,  and  perfect  truth.  Here  was  no  spe 
cious,  smiling  surface,  covering  the  shifting  sand 
bar  and  perfidious  rock,  but  a  stream  deep  as  it 
was  broad,  and  bearing  with  honorable  faith  the 
bark  that  trusted  to  its  waves.  I  gloried  in  its 
simple,  quiet,  majestic,  epic  flow,  ever  straight 
forward,  or,  if  forced  aside  for  once  by  opposing 
mountains,  struggling  bravely  through  them,  and 
resuming  its  onward  march.  Behold,  thought 
I,  an  emblem  of  a  good  man's  course  through 
lit'.',  ever  simple,  open,  and  direct;  or  if,  over- 


GENIUS  OF  IRVING. — HABITS  OF  COMPOSITION. 


powered  by  adverse  circumstances,  he  deviate 
into  error,  it  is  but  momentary — he  soon  resumes 
his  onward  and  honorable  career,  and  continues 
it  to  the  end  of  his  pilgrimage."  . 

The  finest  description,  perhaps,  of  the  Ameri 
can  climate  ever  written  is  from  the  pen  of  Ir 
ving.  It  occurs  in  an  out-of-the-way  sketch  of 
the  Catskills  in  the  Boole  of  the  Picturesque, 
published  a  few  years  ago.  "  Here  let  me  say  a 
word  in  favor  of  those  vicissitudes  which  are  too 
often  made  the  subject  of  exclusive  repining.  If 
they  annoy  us  occasionally  by  changes  from  hot 
to  cold,  from  wet  to  dry,  they  give  us  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  climates  in  the  world.  They  give 
us  the  brilliant  sunshine  of  the  south  of  Europe 
with  the  fresh  verdure  of  the  north.  They  float 
our  summer  sky  with  clouds  of  gorgeous  tints  or 
fleecy  whiteness,  and  send  down  cooling  showers 
to  refresh  the  panting  earth  and  keep  it  green. 
Our  seasons  are  all  poetical ;  the  phenomena  of 
our  heavens  are  full  of  sublimity  and  beauty. 
Winter  with  us  has  none  of  its  proverbial  gloom. 
It  may  have  its  howling  winds,  and  thrilling 
frosts,  and  whirling  snow-storms ;  but  it  has 
also  its  long  intervals  of  cloudless  sunshine,  when 
the  snow-clad  earth  gives  redoubled  brightness 
to  the  day ;  when  at  night  the  stars  beam  with 
intensest  lustre,  or  the  moon  floods  the  whole 
landscape  with  her  most  limpid  radiance — and 
then  the  joyous  outbreak  of  our  spring,  bursting 
at  once  into  leaf  and  blossom,  redundant  with 
vegetation,  and  vociferous  with  life ! — and  the 
splendors  of  our  summer ;  its  morning  voluptu 
ousness  and  evening  glory ;  its  airy  palaces  of 
sun-gilt  clouds  piled  up  in  a  deep  azure  sky;  and 
its  gusts  of  tempest  of  almost  tropical  grandeur, 
when  the  forked  lightning  and  the  bellowing 
thunder  volley  from  the  battlements  of  heaven 
and  shake  the  sultry  atmosphere — and  the  sub 
lime  melancholy  of  our  autumn,  magnificent  in 
its  decay,  withering  down  the  pomp  and  pride 
of  a  woodland  country,  yet  reflecting  back  from 
its  yellow  forests  the  golden  serenity  of  the  sky 
— surely  we  may  say  that  in  our  climate  'the 
.heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  firma 
ment  showeth  forth  his  handywork :  day  unto 
day  uttereth  speech ;  and  night  unto  night  show 
eth  knowledge.'  " 

*In  estimating  the  genius  of  Irving,  we  can 
hardly  attach  too  high  a  value  to  the  refined 
qualities  and  genial  humor  which  have  made  his 
writings  favorites  wherever  the  English  language 
is  read.  The  charm  is  in  the  proportion,  the 
keeping,  the  happy  vein  which  inspires  happi- 
n6ss  in  return.  It  is  the  felicity  of  but. few  au 
thors,  out  of  the  vast  stock  of  English  literature, 
to  delight  equally  young  and  old.  The  tales  of 
Irving  are  the  favorite  authors  of  childhood,  and 
their  good  humor  and  amenity  can  pleas(  where 


most  literature  is  weariness,  in  the  sick-room  of 
the  convalescent.  Every  influence  which  breathes 
from  these  writings  is  good  and  generous.  Their 
sentiment  is  always  just  and  manly,  without  cant 
or  affectation  ;  their  humor  is  always  within  the 
bounds  of  propriety.  They  have  a  fresh  inspira 
tion  of  American  nature,  which  is  not  the  less 
nature  for  the  art  with  which  it  is  adorned. 
The  color  of  personality  attaches  us  throughout 
to  the  author,  whose  humor  of  character  is 
always  to  be  felt.  This  happy  art  of  presenting 
rude  and  confused  objects  in  an  orderly  pleasur 
able  aspect,  everywhere  to  be  met  with  in  the 
pages  of  Irving,  is  one  of  the  most  beneficent  in 
literature.  The  philosopher  Plume  said  a  turn 
for  humor  was  worth  to  him  ten  thousand  a 
year,  and  it  is  this  gift  which  the  writings  of 
Irving  impart.  To  this  quality  is  allied  an  active 
fancy  and  poetic  imagination,  many  of  the 
choicest  passages  of  Irving  being  interpenetrated 
by  this  vivifying  power.  On  one  or  two  occa 
sions  only,  we  believe, — in  some  stanzas  to  the 
Passaic  River,  some  delicate  lines  descriptive  of 
a  painting  by  Gilbert  Stuart  Newton,  and  a 
theatrical  address  once  pronounced  by  Cooper  at 
the  Park  Theatre, — has  he  ever  put  pen  to  verse  : 
but  he  is  an  essential  poet  in  prose,  in  many  ex 
quisite  passages  of  vivid  description  from  West 
minster  Abbey  and  English  rural  scenery  to  the 
waste  beauties  of  the  great  region  beyond  the 
Mississippi. 

In  composition,  *Mr.  Irving's  style  flowed 
easily,  though  in  common  with  most  writers  of 
original  genius  he  had  his  favoring  moods  and 
seasons.  Some  of  his  best  works  were  struck  off 
at  a  heat.  He  took  pleasure  in  writing  when  he 
could  have  his  own  way,  and  nurse  a  subject  in 
his  mind.  The  many  hours  passed  at  his  desk  in 
the  absorbing  pursuit  of  tracing  his  small,  neat 
manuscript  pages,  were  among  his  happiest. 
His  principles  of  composition  were  few  and  sim 
ple.  He  recommended  short  and  direct  phrases 
in  writing,  with  as  few  long  words  as  possible, 
avoiding  the  use  of  conjunctions  and  expletives.  / 
On  looking  over  his  books  we  find  that  he  is 
much  less  indebted  to  the  Latin  element  of  the 
language,  for  the  flow  of  his  composition,  than 
we  had  supposed.  He  would,  doubtless,  have 
concurred  with  the  advice  of  Sydney  Smith  to  a 
young  author,  to  improve  his  style  by  striking 
out  every  other  word. 

He  attributed  his  ease  in  writing,  we  have 
heard  it  stated,  to  the  early  training  which  he 
received  at  his  first  school,  where  this  branch  of 
education  was  much  insisted  upon.  He  would 
write  out  the  compositions  of  many  of  his  school 
fellows,  and  adapt  his  style  to  that  of  the  one 
whose  task  he  had  undertaken.  This  is  the  re- 
inarh  of  one  who  knew  him  well.  But  whatever 


PERSONAL  TRAITS. 


direction  may  thus  have  been  given  to  his 
powers,  we  suspect  that,  as  in  the  case  of  Oliver 
Goldsmith,  a  happy  instinct  was  his  chief  guide, 
and  that  he  found  his  way  to  his  place  in  English 
literature,  with  but  little  aid  from  schoolmasters 
or  preceptors.  Good  British  authors  were  his 
professors;  his  college  was  the  library  where 
the  learned  doctors  were  the  wits  of  Queen 
Anne,  and  such  kindly  instructors  as  Sterne, 
Johnson,  and  above  all,  Goldsmith  ;  but  his  uni 
versity  was  the  world. 

"  He  read  much  as  a  boy,"  remarks  our  nar 
rator,  u  and  always  had  entertaining  books  in  his 
desk  for  a  stealthy  perusal,  when  the  master's 
eve  was  turned.  He  was  not  a  very  deep  classi 
cal  scholar,  not  having  received  a  collegiate  edu 
cation,  but  his  deficiencies  in  this  respect  were 
amply  compensated  by  his  thorough  ease  in  the 
use  of  plain,  terse  English,  in  which  he  was  ex 
celled  by  none.  In  reading,  his  memory  of  facts 
was  not  good,  but  he  would  grasp  the  spirit  of  a 
narrative,  and  conjure  up  a  coloring  of  his  own, 
which  indelibly  impressed  it  upon  his  mind,  and 
was  used  as  occasion  required."  * 

We  have  said  that  the  university  of  Irving  was 
the  world.  He  was  never  a  very  bookish  man 
in  the  restricted  sense;  he  was  oftener  to  be 
found  in  good  company  than  in  the  library,  in 
the  fields  and  streets  than  in  the  study  ;  yet  he 
was  not  a  man  of  action  in  crowds.  His  life 
was  a  happy  compromise  between  literature  and 
society.  A  meditative  disposition  threw  him 
upon  himself;  he  was  not  cramped  by  pedan 
try,  nor  was  his  mind  volatilized  or  lost  in  the 
dissipations  or  business  of  ^he  world. 

It  was  early  remarked  by  one  of  the  most 
subtle  and  powerful  critics  whom  America  has 
produced,  Mr.  Dana,  the  author  of  that  more 
deeply-graven  "Sketch  Book,"  The  Idle  Man, 
that  "  Irving's  wit  and  humor  do  not  appear  to 
come  of  reading  witty  and  humorous  books  ;  but 
from  the  world  acting  upon  a  mind  of  that  cast, 
and  putting  those  powers  in  motion.'''! 

We  have  now  concluded  our  brief  sketch  of 
the  literary  career  of  Washington  Irving.  It 
would  be  an  injustice  to  his  memory,  and  a  re 
proach  to  ourselves,  not  to  say  a  word  of  those 
sterling  moral  qualities  which  were  the  secret 
springs  nurturing,  in  the  image  of  Jeremy  Tay 
lor,  the  "  fair  spreading  tree"  of  his  reputation  in 
his  books.  He  was  intimately  and  essentially,  in 
small  things  and  in  great,  an  honest,  honorable 
man.  His  judgment  was  sound,  and  his  course 
always  straightforward  ;  so  that  he  attained  suc 
cess  without  craft  or  chicanery,  which  werer  en 
tirely  foreign  to  his  nature.  A  modest  simplicity 

*  MS.  Notes  by  Mr.  J.  Carson  Brevoort. 
t  North  American  Review  for  1819.    Article—"  The  Sketch 
Book." 

xxii 


^uided  him  in  every  thing.  A  beneficent  deity 
liad  given  him  neither  poverty  nor  riches,  and 
ad  removed  far  from  him  vanity  and  lies.  He 
had  none  of  the  frequent  affectations  of  litera 
ture.  He  valued  reputation,  but  he  was  never 
seen  stumbling  in  the  awkward  pursuit  of  praise. 
It  came  to  him  through  life,  and  in  abundant 
measure  in  age,  when  it  was  most  welcome,  to 
cheer  drooping  spirits,  and  clothe  with  a  warm 
mantle  of  charity  and  affection,  the  chill,  declin 
ing  years. 

"  Nothing  amazed  him,"  writes  Mr.  Brevoort 
to  us,  "  so  much  as  to  be  lionized,  or  made  the 
centre  of  a  group  of  listeners.  To  hear  him 
talk,  and  to  draw  him  out,  it  was  necessary  to 
have  but  few  present.  He  preferred  the  society 
of  such  as  had  some  refinement  of  taste ;  not 
humorous  or  witty,  but  with  a  disposition  to 
take  the  pleasant  side  of  any  question ;  neither 
boisterous  nor  satirical.  He  never  said  any  thing 
for  effect,  nor  with  a  view  to  its  being  repeated 
or  recorded.  His  remarks  would  drop  from  him 
as  naturally  as  possible,  and  he  never  monopo 
lized  the  conversation,  but  followed,  instead  of 
leading  it," 

His  chief  guides  were  his  tastes  and  affections, 
with  which  his  principles  of  duty  and  religion, 
his  love  of  independence,  and  his  patriotism, 
were  inwrought.  Let  his  pastor,  and  the  villa 
gers  and  children  of  his  neighborhood,  as  on  the 
day  of  his  funeral,  that  memorable  first  of  De 
cember,  when  nature  seemed  to  sympathize  with 
his  departure  from  earth,  bear  witness  to  his  un 
affected  piety. 


THE  FUNERAL  OF  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

BY  W.  FEANOIS  WILLIAMS. 

YESTERDAY  *  the  funeral  of  Washington  Irving 
took  place  .at  Tarrytown,  where  for  twenty-one 
years  the  great  author  had  resided,  and  to  almost 
every  inhabitant  of  which  he  was  a  personal 
friend.  Indeed,  the  unanimity  with  which  the 
people  of  that  vicinity  flocked  to  do  honor  to 
the  memory  of  their  late  fellow-townsman,  was 
the  spontaneous  exhibition  of  their  personal  re 
gard  rather  than  an  ovation  to  the  genius  and 
talent  of  a  world-renowned  author. 

According  to  previous  arrangement  the  stores 
at  Tari'3'town  were  closed  yesterday,  and  many 
of  them  draped  Avith  black  and  white  muslin. 
This  gave  a  peculiar  air  of  melancholy  to  the 
aspect  of  this  quiet  village,  to  which  the  slow 
tolling  .of  the  church-bells  gave  an  additional 
mournful  ness.  The  numerous  visitors  from  New 
York,  most  of  whom  came  by  the  eleven-o'clock 
train  from  the  city,  reaching  Tarrytown  at  about 

*  This.skotfh  appeared  in  the  N.  T.  Evening  Post,  Dec.  2, 1S59. 


FUNERAL  SERVICES. 


noon,  were  thus  at  once  reminded  of  the  solem 
nity  of  the  occasion  and  of  the  mournful  charac 
ter  of  their  visit. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  estimate  the  number  of 
persons  that  visited  the  village,  to  attend  the 
funeral  of  Mr.  Irving.  We  were,  however,  as 
sured  by  an  old  inhabitant  that  on  only  one 
previous  occasion  had  there  been  so  large  a 
concourse  of  people  in  Tarrytown.  That  occa 
sion  was  the  dedication  of  the  monument  erected 
to  the  memory  of  Paulding,  Williams,  and  Van 
Wert,  on  the  spot  where  those  patriots  captured 
Major  Andre.  Certainly  on  no  previous  occasion 
has  the  village  contained  such  an  array  of  men 
eminent  in  the  various  walks  of  literature  and 
commerce. 

The  principal  road  at  Tarrytown,  after  leaving 
the  depot,  and  passing  by  a  number  of  the  prin 
cipal  stores  and  the  hotels,  winds  up  a  short 
steep  hill,  and  continues  running  eastwardly  for 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  until  it  meets  the  main 
road  running  from  New  York  northward,  paral 
lel  with  the  Hudson  river.  The  upper  part  of 
the  village  has  a  more  rustic  appearance  than 
the  portion  beneath  the  hill,  as  the  houses  are 
detached,  and  stand  in  large  gardens  surrounded 
by  rich  foliage,  which  even  yet  has  not  entirely 
disappeared. 

At  the  crossing,  where  the  road  from  the  depot 
meets  the  main  road,  which,  during  its  course 
through  Tarrytown,  is  called  "Broadway,"  an 
arch  or  canopy  of  black  and  white  drapery  dec 
orated  the  street.  To  the  south,  about  two 
miles  from  the  junction,  is  Sunnyside,  the  cele 
brated  residence  of  Mr.  Irving,  the  Wolfert's 
Roost  of  the  old  Dutch  times. 

At  this  period  of  the  year,  Sunnyside  generally 
presents  a  melancholy  appearance,  the  trees  be 
ing  almost  entirely  denuded  of  foliage,  the  dry 
leaves  lying  upon  the  walks  and  lawns,  and  the 
wind  playing  around  the  yet  verdant  evergreens 
and  among  the  bare  branches  with  the  soft,  sad 
music  peculiar  to  the  autumn  breeze.  -The  house 
itself,  with  its  quaint  gables,  its  old-fashioned 
ornaments  and  rambling  wings,  readily  assumes 
a  tinge  of  melancholy.  But  yesterday  it  appeared 
unusually  lonely ;  the  windows  were  closed,  and 
delicacy  prevented  others  than  those  connected 
with  the  family  or  with  the  necessary  funeral 
offices  from  intruding  upon  the  house  of  woe,  or 
trespassing  upon  the  tastefully  laid-out  grounds. 

At  about  one  o'clock  the  funeral  procession 
left  Sunnyside,  where  a  private  religious  service 
had  been  held  by  Rev.  Dr.  Creighton,  the  rector 
of  Christ  Church,  Tarrytown,  and  an  intinuite 
personal  friend  of  the  deceased?  The  coffin  was 
placed  in  a  handsome  hearse,  the  sides  of  which 
were  glazed,  so  that  the  coffin  was  plainly  visi 
ble.  The  carriages  containing  the  friends  of  the 


deceased  followed.  The  turnpike  road  com 
mands  noble  views  of  the  Hudson  river,  with 
which  the  memory  of  Irving  will  be  forever 
associated,  while  the  "  broad  expanse  of  the 
Tappaan  Zee,"  dotted  with  sails,  is  spread  out 
like  a  panorama  before  the  traveller.  The  fol 
lowing  is  the 

PEOGEAMME  OF  THE  PEOCESSIOX. 

The  Committee  of  Arrangements,  consisting  of 
Mr.  Benson  Ferris,  Mr.  William  Chalmers, 

Mr.  Seth  Bird,  Hon.  Holmes  Odell, 

General  Henry  Storms. 

THE  CLERGY: 

Rev.  Wm.  D.  Creighton,  D.D.,         Eev.  J.  S.  Spencer, 
in  carriages,  wearing  their  gowns. 

PHYSICIANS : 

John  C.  Peters,  M.D.,  H.  Caruthers,  M.D., 

in  carriages. 

PALL   BEAKERS : 

Professor  James  Eenwick,         Gouverneur  Kemble, 
Mr.  James  A.  Hamilton,  Mr.  Henry  Sheldon, 

Dr.  James  G.  Cogswell,  Mr.  N.  B.  Holmes, 

Gen.  James  Watson  Webb,        Mr.  George  D.  Morgan, 

in  carriages. 
THE    HEARSE, 
drawn  by  two  horses. 

MOURNERS, 

relatives  of  the  deceased,  as  follows: 

Ebenezer  Irving,  aged  86,  brother  of  deceased  ; 

Eev.  Pierre  P.  Irving,  Eev.  Theodore  Irving,  Mr.  Pierre  M. 

Irving,  Mr.  Saunders  Irving,  Mr.  Oscar  Irving,  Mr. 

Edgar  Irving,  nephews  of  deceased; 

Mr.  Moses  H.  Grinnell,  nephew  by  marriage ; 

Mr.  Irving  Grinnell,  Mr.  Irving  Van  Wart,  and  other  relatives 

in  carriages. 

Private  carriages  of  deceased. 

Trustees   of  the   Astur  Library. 

Representatives  of  the  Common  Council  of  New  Y»rk, 

who  joined  the  procession,  on  foot. 

Teachers  and  Pupils  of  the  Private  Schools,  two  and  two. 
Citizens  and  strangers,  numbering  some  'five  hundred,  on  foot, 

four  abreast. 

Over  one  hundred  and  fifty  carriages  and  other  vehicles,  with 
friends,  which  covered  over  a  mile  of  space. 

As  the  procession  approached  the  public 
school,  the  children  were  seen  arrayed  in  a  line 
upon  the  roadside.  As  the  hearse  passed,  the 
boys  and  teachers  uncovered  their  heads,  in  re 
spect  to  the  memory  of  one  who  for  years  had 
taken  an  active  interest  in  their  studies. 

The  church,  where  the  funeral  ceremonies 
took  place,  is  only  a  few  rods  from  the  school- 
house,  and  stands  on  the  west  side  of  th£  road. 
It  is  an  unpretending  structure  of  red  brick,  in 
the  perpendicular  Gothic  or  Tudor  style  of 
architecture,  furnished  with  a  square  central 
tower,  embowered  in  trees,  draped  with  vines, 
and,  like  most  country  and  village  churches, 
provided  with  spacious  sheds  for  the  accommo 
dation  of  the  horses  and  vehicles  of  attendants 
from  a  distance.  The  basement  of  the  church  is 
occupied  for  the  Sunday-school,  and  the  interior 
jf  the  church  itself  is  finished  with  the  utmost 
simplicity.  Three  Gothic  windows  on  either 
side  afford  ingress  for  air  and  light.  Over  the 
entrance  is  a  gallery  for  the  organ  and  choir, 
while  the  chancel,  lighted  by  a  handsome  stained 
window,  is  in  a  recess  at  the  opposite  or  east  end 

xxiii 


AT  CHURCH. 


of  the  building.  On  the  north  wall  are  a  couple 
of  diamond-shaped  tablets  to>  the  memory  of 
eminent  members  of  the  congregation  long  since 
deceased.  For  a  number  of  years,  Rev.  William 
D.  Creighton  has  officiated  as  rector  of  Christ 
Church.  Dr.  Creighton  is  a  man  of  wealth, 
residing  in  one  of  the  most  beautiful  country 
seats  on  the  Hudson,  and  performs  his  parochial 
duties  without  receiving  any  salary.  He  was 
at  one  time,  on  the  death  of  Dr.  Wainwright, 
elected  Provisional  Bishop  of  this  diocese,  but 
declined  the  position,  before  his  consecration, 
and  thus  made  room  for  the  election  of  the 
present  Provisional  Bishop.  Rev.  James  Selden 
Spencer  is  the  assistant-minister  of  Christ 
Church,  Tarrytown. 

At  twelve  o'clock  the  little  church  was  crowd 
ed  to  repletion,  and  quite  a  panic  was  occasioned 
by  a  report  that  the  gallery  was  threatening  to 
fall.  This  report  originated  in  the  fact  that  one 
of  the  wooden  pillars  supporting  the  organ-loft 
was  observed  to  move,  while  a  crackling  sound 
was  heard.  A  number  of  people  crowded  out 
of  the  church  in  terror.  It  appears  that  the  floor 
of  the  church  had  slightly  sunk  under  the  un 
usual  weight,  thus  loosening  the  pillar.  The  gal 
lery  was,  however,  firmly  supported  by  cross 
beams,  and  there  was  no  real  danger.  The  panic 
was  soon  allayed. 

At  about  half-past  one,  the  clergy  present  en 
tered  the  chancel,  led  by  Bishop  Potter,  and  in- 
.  eluding  Rev.  Dr.Vinton,  of  St.  Paul's,  New  York ; 
Rev.  Dr.  Taylor,  of  Grace  Church;  Rev.  Mr. 
Meade ;  Rev.  Mr.  Farmington,  of  Trinity ;  Rev. 
Dr.  Morgan,  of  St.  Thomas ;  Rev.  Dr.  McVickar, 
Rev.  Mr.  Babbitt,  and  Rev.  Mr.  Moore.  Among 
the  clergymen  in  the  body  of  the  house  was  Rev. 
J.  B.  Wakeley,  the  distinguished  Methodist  cler 
gyman  of  this  city. 

Rev.  Dr.  Creighton  and  Rev.  Mr.  Spencer,  the 
officiating  clergymen,  met  the  body  at  the  door 
of  the  church,  and  proceeded  up  the  south  aisle, 
reading  the  opening  sentences  of  the  Episcopal 
burial  service : 

"  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life,  saith  the  Lord  ;  he  that 
believeth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  lie  live ;  and 
whosoever  liveth  and  believeth  in  me,  shall  never  die. 

'•  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,  and  that  he  shall  stand 
at  the  hitter  day  upon  the  earth.  And  though  after  my  skin 
worms  destroy  this  body,  yet  in  my  flesh  shall  I  see  God; 
whom  I  shall  see  for  myself,  and  mine  eyes  shall  behold,  and 
not  another. 

"  We  brought  nothing  into  this  world,  and  it  is  certain  we 
can  carry  nothing  out  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath 
taken  away ;  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord." 

Arrived  at  the  chancel,  the  coffin  was  depos 
ited  before  the  chancel-rail,  while  the  choir  sang 
to  a  Gregorian  chant,  the  appointed  anthem, 
u  Lord,  let  me  know  my  end.'.'  Dr.  Creighton 
then  read  the  lesson  from  the  15th  chapter  of 
1  Corinthians,  and  the  choir  sang  the  following 

xxiv 


verses  of  the  20th  hymn,  to  the  choral  known  as 
"St.  Ann's:" 

"Behold  the  innumerable  host 

Of  angels  clothed  in  light ; 
Behold  the  spirits  of  the  just, 
Whose  faith  is  changed  to  sight. 

Behold  the  blest  assembly  there, 
Whose  names  are  writ  in  heaven  ; 

Hear,  too,  the  Judge  of  all  declare 
Their  sins  through  Christ  forgiven. 

Angels,  and  living  saints,  and  dead, 

But  one  communion  make — 
All  join  in  Christ,  their  vital  Head, 

And  of  His  love  partake." 

This  hymn  is  often  sung  at  funerals,  and  was 
selected  for  the  funeral  of  the  late  Bishop  Wain 
wright. 

Dr.  Creighton  then  stated  that  those  desiring 
to  take  a  last  look  at  the  features  of  the  deceased 
could  do  so  by  passing  up  the  south  aisle,  crossing 
in  front  of  the  chancel,  and  leaving  by  the  north 
aisle.  This  was  a  poor  arrangement,  as  the  head 
of  the  coffin  fronting  to  the  north,  the  face  of  the 
deceased  was  not  visible  to  the  beholders  until 
they  were  directly  before  it ;  and  as  the  time 
allowed  to  each  was  necessarily  very  short,  few 
could  take  more  than  a  passing  glimpse.  By 
approaching  at  the  north  aisle  from  the  foot  of 
the  coffin,  a  much  more  satisfactory  view  could 
have  been  obtained. 

Nearly  a  thousand  persons  who  had  been  un 
able  to  gain  entrance  to  the  church  availed  them 
selves  of  this  mournful  privilege,  and  passed  in 
quick,  though  solemn  procession,  by  the  remains 
of  Washington  Irving.  Among  the  distinguished 
men  who  took  part  in  this  token  of  respect,  or 
were  present  at  the  services,  were  Commodore 
Paulding,  Hamilton  Fish,  John  A.  Dix,  William 
B.  Astor,  Gulian  0.  Verplanek,  George  Bancroft, 
N.  P.Willis,  Donald  G.  Mitchell,  Thomas  Hicks, 
John  Jay,  Henry  T.  Tuckerrnan,  G.  P.  Putnam, 
Evert  A.  Duyckinck,  George  L.  Dnyckinck, 
George  Folsom,  Frederick  Saunders,  President 
King  of  Columbia  College,  Judge  Kent,  Fred 
erick  S.  Cozzens.  Almost  every  inhabitant  of 
Tarrytown  was  present  to  offer  their  last  tribute 
of  respect  to  their  late  friend  and  fellow-towns 
man. 

The  features  of  Mr.  Irving  appeared  very  thin 
to  those  who  had  not  seen  him  for  some  time. 
During  the  last  year,  however,  Mr.  Irving's  fail 
ing  health  had  visibly  told  upon  his  attenuated 
frame,  and  he  looked  very  different  from  what 
he  did  five  years  ago.  Then  he  might  have  been 
seen  every  Sunday  in  his  pew  at  the  little  village 
church,  always  ready  at  the  close  of  the  services 
to  greet  the  numerous  friends  that  always  met 
him  by  the  church-door.  He  appeared  well  and 
hearty — as  unlike  the  conventional  idea  of  a  lit 
erary  man  as  could  be,  and  more  like  a  well-to-do 


THE  GRAVE. 


merchant  or  a  respectable  alderman.  Mr.  Irving  '  the  church  at  about  two  o'clock,  and  passed  up 
dressed,  of  course,  respectably,  but  never  ele-  .  the  main  road,  through  and  beyond  the  village. 
gantly;  and  he  often  had  a  peculiar  shambling  j  The  piazzas  of  the  houses  were  crowded  with 
gait, 'that  would  attract  the  attention  even  of  I  spectators,  while  the  rocks  on  the  wayside  also 
tbose  who  did  not  know  him.  In  entering  the  j  served  as  standing-points  for  strangers  and 
church  he  usually  was  waylaid  by  a  few  friends,  j  citizens.  While  the  procession  was  on  its  way 
spoke  a  few  words  with  them,  and  then  passed  j  the  bells  of  the  various  churches  tolled  respon- 
into  his  pew  near  the  chancel,  recognizing  by  a  sively. 
kindly  smile,  as  he  walked  up  the  aisle,  his  vari 


ous  acquaintances.  At  other  times  he  would 
visit  the  Sunday-school,  for  many  years  under 
the  superintendence  of  his  intimate  personal 
friend  and  his  pall-bearer,  Mr.  Nathaniel  B. 
Holmes,  of  Spring  Hill  Cottage,  Tarry  town.  He 
always  was  very  fond  of  and  exceedingly  popular 
among  children,  and  therefore  took  a  lively  in 
terest  in  the  Sunday-school.  He  was  for  many 


The  procession  passed  through  the  village  by 
the  monument  erected  last  year  on  the  spot 
where  Major  Andre  was  captured,  until  a  sudden 
turn  and  rapid  descent  in  the  road  brought  the 
spectator  in  full  view  of  one  of  the  most  delicious 
bits  of  pastoral  scenery  in  the  vicinity  of  New 
York — the  brook  and  cove  of  Sleepy  Hollow, 
with  its  pond  reflecting  the  trees  upon  its  hilly 
borders,  while  on  its  opposite  shore  stood  the 


years  a  warden  of  Christ  Church,  and  on  several  |  celebrated    Van    Tassel   mansion,    the   same   to 


which  Ichabod  Crane  was  invited  on  the  night 
of  his  celebrated  adventure  with  the  headless 
horseman.  The  old  mill  still  stands,  forming  a 
prominent  feature  in  the  picture,  and  doing  to 


occasions  served  as  lay  delegate  to  the  Diocesan 
Convention.  A  firm,  though  not  bigoted  Epis 
copalian,  Mr.  Irving  loved  the  services  of  his 
Church,  and  often  expressed  his  devoted  admira 
tion  of  her  liturgy.  At  the  meeting  held  by  the  |  this  day  good  and  active  'service!  A  few  rods 
citizens  of  Tarry  town  the  night  after  Mr.  Irving's  further  and  the  bridge  which  Ichabod  crossed  in 
death,  Rev.  Mr.  Spencer  spoke  of  Mr.  Irving's  his  furious  flight,  and  which  Irving  in  his  tale 
love  of  the  Church,  his  goodness  of  heart,  and  has  immortalized  in  the  same  way  that  Burns 
his  susceptibility  to  emotional  influences.  He  immortalized  another  bridge  in  his  "Tain  O'Shan- 
said  that  he  had  seen  Mr.  Irving's  eyes  well  over  j  ter,  came  in  sight.  It  was  elegantly  decorated 
with  tears  at  the  least  circumstance  that  would  I  with  evergreens,  and  black  and  white  drapery 
touch  his  heart.  He  was  passionately  fond  of  •  and  rosettes.  Beyond  this,  on  the  opposite 


music.  On  the  occasion  of  his  first  interview 
with  Mr.  Irving,  he  was  expressing  his  interest 
in  that  glorious  hymn  of  the  Church,  the  Gloria 
in  Excelsis;  and  repeating  the  words,  "  Glory  to 
God  in  the  highest,  on  earth  peace,  and  good-will 
to  men,"  he  exclaimed,  with  his  eyes  moistened, 
"  That  is  religion,  Mr.  Spencer ;  that  is  true  re 
ligion  for  you." 

Mr.  Irving  usually  attended  church  accompa 
nied  by  his  nieces  and  other  relatives.  *  *  * 

Mr.  Irving's  body  was  inclosed  in  a  rosewood 
coffin,  which  was  embossed  with  heavy  silver 
screws,  and  furnished  on  the  sides  with  chased 
silver  handles.  On  the  top  was  a  silver  plate 
bearing  the  inscription : 

WASHINGTON   IRVING. 

Born  April  3,  1783  ; 
DIED  NOVEMBER  28, 1859. 

Wreaths  of  native  and  exotic  flowers  lay  on  the 
coffin-lid.  The  corpse  was  clothed  in  ordinary 
civilian  costume. 

The  route  to  the  grave  lay  along  a  road  offer 
ing  most  beautiful  glimpses  of  land  and  water 
scenery,  but  now  rendered  peculiarly  interesting 


bank,  stands  the  old  Dutch  Church,  which,  ac 
cording  to  an  inscription  on  its  front,  was  built 
in  1699,  by  Frederick  Phillips  and  Catharine 
Van  Cortlandt  his  wife.  The  Tarrytown  Ceme 
tery,  which  bears  also  the  title  of  the  Mount 
Pleasant  Cemetery,  lies  to  the  north  of  this 
Church,  upon  the  slope  of  the  hill.  It  is  already 
thickly  populated  with  tombstones,  some  of 
them  dating  as  far  back  as  the  year  1667. 

Near  the  summit  of  the  slope,  where  a  grove  of 
oak  and  yew  trees  commences  to  crown  the  hill, 
is  the  burial-place  of  the  Irving  family.  It  is  a 
large  square  lot,  bounded  by  a  low  fence  and  a 
thickly  grown  evergreen  hedge.  Near  the  centre 
is  a  row  of  five  graves,  while  a  few  feet  distant 
is  another  row  of  five  more  graves,  all  marking 
the  resting-places  of  the  deceased  members  of 
the  Irving  family.  Between  these  two  rows, 
and  connecting  them  into  one  continuous  row,  is 
the  grave  of  Washington  Irving,  which,  1'ke  the 
others,  will  be  marked  by  a  plain  whi'e  marble 
slab.  This  latest  grave  is  very  near  the  centre  of 
the  Irving  lot. 

Only  a  few  carriages,  containing  the  relatives 
of  the  deceased,  approached  the  grave,  the  others 


by  the  fact  that  it  passes  through  scenes  that  the  I  being  left  in  the  road  by  the  old  church,  while 


pen  of  Mr.  Irving   has   rendered    classic.     The 


hearse  and  carriages,  accompanied  and  preceded   Dr.  Creighton  officiated,  and,  according  to  the 
by  a  large  number  of  pedestrians-,  started  from   solemn  form  of  the  Episcopal  service,  consigned 

4;  XXV 


the  occupants  walked  to  the  place  of  interment. 


PROCEEDINGS  OF  THE  BOARD  OF  ALDERMEN. 


the  "  earth  to  earth,  dust  to  dust,  ashes  to  ashes." 
The  scene  at  this  moment,  apart  from  the  insep 
arable  solemnity  of  such  an  occasion,  was  one 
of  more  than  ordinary  interest. 

The  day  was  mild  arid  balmy  as  at  spring 
time,  while  the  sun,  yet  high  above  the  horizon, 
was  veiled  rather  than  dimmed  by  a  film  of 
cloud,  which  softened  the  rays  that  would  other 
wise  have  fallen  with  painful  brilliancy  upon  the 
eyes  of  the  reverently  uncovered  crowd  that  was 
present.  The  relatives  and  personal  friends  of 
the  deceased  were  within  the  inclosure  of  the 
burial  lot,  while  outside,  and  upon  the  various 
hillocks  commanding  a  view  of  the  scene,  were 
many  of  the  townspeople  and  strangers.  Dr. 
Creighton,  Bishop  Potter,  and  the  Rev.  Pierre  P. 
Irving  stood  at  the  head  of  the  grave,  and  by 
them  was  the  venerable  brother  of  Washington 
Irving,  Mr.  Ebenezer  Irving,  now  eighty-six 
years  old,  supported  by  his  two  daughters,  the 
nieces  whose  care  and  affection  so  greatly  enli 
vened  the  later  years  of  Washington  Irving's 
life.  Other  relations  and  friends  made  up  the 
group.  The  scene  spread  out  before  this  sad  as 
sembly,  though  all  unheeded  by  them,  was  one 
of  singular  beauty.  Down  the  green  hill-slope, 
thickly  dotted  with  grave-stones,  groups  of  late 
comers  were  corning  slowly  towards  the  place  of 
interment.  At  the  foot  of  the  slope  was  the  old 
revolutionary  church,  its  front  draped  in  black, 
while  the  road  before  it  was  crowded  with  car 
riages.  Beyond  this  the  smooth  sheet  of  water 
that  supplies  the  ancient  Van  Tassel  mill-dam 
was  plainly  discernible,  while  still  farther  were 
the  village  of  Tarrytown  and  the  Hudson  river, 
with  the  Palisades  forming  a  distant  background. 
The  delicate  blue  haze  that  pervaded  the  atmos 
phere  mingled  with  the  rich  tints  of  an  afternoon 
sun,  which,  as  it  descended,  resolved  itself,  an 
hour  or  two  later,  into  one  of  those  gorgeous 
autumn  sunsets  that  add  such  a  peculiar  glory  to 
American  scenery.  And  it  was  in  such  a  place 
as  this,  on  such  a  day,  and  under  such  circum 
stances  that  Washington  Irving,  the  genial 
author,  and  the  loved  and  cherished  friend  and 
citizen,  was  laid  quietly  down  to  take  his  last 
sleep,  among  the  scenes  he  has  himself  so  faith 
fully  described,  by  the  side  of  his  mother,  and  in 
the  very  spot  he  had  but  a  week  ago  designated 
as  the  place  of  his  final  repose. 

Washington  Irving,  as  the  last  of  the  great 
literary  men  of  the  earlier  part  of  this  century, 
and  probably  from  his  personal  acquaintance 
with  the  great  Scottish  novelist,  recalls  to  mind 
the  genius  and  career  of  Walter  Scott.  In  their 
last  days,  too,  there  was  a  singular  similarity. 
Like  Scott,  Irving  had  his  home  among  the 
scenes  that  he  particularly  loved,  and  which  he 
had  invested  with  the  magic  of  his  genius,  and 

xxvi 


like  Scott,  he  was  buried  amid  those  scenes.  It 
is  difficult  to  tell  whether  the  burial-place  of 
Scott  or  of  Irving  is  the  more  attractive.  Be 
neath  a  high  majestic  arch  of  Dryburgh  Abbey, 
one  of  the  few  remains  of  that  noble  Gothic  edi 
fice  that  has  escaped  the  ravages  of  time — so  near 
the  banks  of  an  historic  Scottish  stream,  that 
the  ripple  of  her  waters  can  be  heard  from  his 
grave — within  sight  of  the  almost  enchanted  land, 

"  Where  fair  Tweed  flows  round  holy  Melrose, 
And  Eildon  slopes  down  to  the  plain," 

surrounded  by  decaying  monuments  of  the 
mediaeval  grandeur,  of  which  he  has  so  nobly 
sung,  they  built  the  sarcophagus  of  Walter 
Scott.  On  the  shores  of  his  loved  Hudson,  in 
sight  of  the  noble  Palisades,  before  whose  grand 
magnificence  the  mediawal  monuments  are  but 
as  toys,  and  under  only  the  arch  of  oak  and  yew 
branches,  twenty-seven  years  later  his  friend 
Washington  Irving  was  laid  to  rest.  They  are 
now  both  but  mere  historic  names.  Yet  Abbots- 
ford  and  Sunnyside  will  remain  to  attract  the 
traveller's  attention,  and  Dryburgh  Abbey  will 
not  be  oftener  visited  than  the  quiet  churchyard 
that  looks  upon  Sleepy  Hollow  and  the  Tappaan 
Zee. 


PROCEEDINGS  OF  THE  NEW  YORK  BOARD  OF 
ALDERMEN  AND  COUNCILMEN. 

BOARD    OF    ALDERMEN. 

THE  Board  of  Aldermen  held  a  special  meet 
ing  at  3  P.  M.,  Nov.  30. 

The  President,  Alderman  McSpedon,  stated 
that  the  meeting  had  been  called,  in  accordance 
with  the  suggestion  of  the  Mayor,  for  the  pur 
pose  of  making  a  suitable  expression  of  the  sen 
timents  of  sorrow  to  which  the  death  of  Wash 
ington  Irving  gave  rise. 

The  following  message  from  the  Mayor  was 
read : 

THE  MAYOR'S  MESSAGE. 

"  MAYOR'S  OFFICE,  New  York,  Nov.  80, 1859. 

"To  the  Honorable  the  Common  Council: 

"GENTLEMEN: — It  becomes  my  painful  duty 
to  announce  to  you  the  death  of  an  eminent 
man  and  illustrious  author.  Washington  Irving 
is  no  more.  He  died  at  his  late  residence,  at 
Sunnyside,  WTestchester  county,  on  the  evening 
of  the  29th  inst.,  and  already  the  wires  of  the 
electric  telegraph  have  sped  the  news  of  this  sad 
event  to  nearly  every  part  of  our  country,  by 
which  it  will,  no  doubt,  be  considered  as  a 
national  calamity. 

"  While  we  bow  with  resignation  to  the  dis 
pensation  of  our  Heavenly  Father,  who  has  taken 
from  our  country  and  the  world  of  literature  one 


RESOLUTIONS 


of  its  greatest  benefactors  and  gifted  sons,  we  are 
cheered  by  the  thought  that  his  works  will  be  a 
rich  and  unfailing  treasure  of  instruction  and 
delight  for  generations  to  come.  The  genial 
products  of  his  pure  and  graceful  pen  will  for 
ever  continue  to  afford  a  solace  to  the  sick  and 
weary,  and  supply  a  fund  of  innocent  gratifica 
tion  to  all  classes,  as  long  as  literary  taste  and 
culture  find  a  place  on  earth  ;  while  his  biogra 
phies  of  Columbus  and  Washington  will  fire  the 
youthful  mind  to  emulate  those  examples  of  he 
roic  duty  and  heroic  patriotism. 

"For  over  fifty  years  this  pioneer  of  American 
literature  has  ably  sustained  in  the  field  of  letters 
the  national  credit  and  honor;  and  I  am  confident 
that  his  native  City  will  not  be  indifferent  in 
adding  their  tribute  to  his  fame.  I  would  ac 
cordingly  recommend  that  the  Common  Council 
pass  such  resolutions  as  may  be  appropriate  to 
this  sad  occasion,  expressing  the  sorrow  of  our 
citizens  at  his  loss,  as  well  as  their  admiration  of 
him  as  a  man,  a  writer,  and  an  historian,  and  their 
sympathy  with  his  bereaved  family  and  friends. 
I  would  also  recommend  that  you  direct  the 
alarm-bells,  and  request  the  church-bells  to  be 
tolled  to-morrow,  during  the  time  fixed  for  his 
funeral,  and  that  flags  on  the  public  buildings  be 
displayed  at  half-mast  throughout  the  entire  day. 
"  DANIEL  F.  TIEMANN,  Mayor." 

Aid.  Adams  moved  that  the  message  be  trans 
mitted  to  the  Board  of  Councilmen.  Carried. 

Alderman  Peck  said  the  death  of  Washington 
Irving  had  cast  a  gloom  over  the  whole  commu 
nity.  He  was  a  Knickerbocker — a  man  of  rare 
talents,  whose  place  could  not  easily  be  supplied. 
No  one  could  pass  an  adequate  eulogy  upon  him. 
His  name  was  known  and  honored  throughout 
the  world.  When  he  had  heard  that  Washing 
ton  Irving  was  no  more,  he  had  been  deeply 
impressed  with  the  littleness  of  worldly  affairs. 
When  a  great  man  died,  the  world  mourned  his 
loss.  Who  could  have  departed  whose  loss 
would  have  been  more  sincerely  felt  ?  He  pre 
sented  the  following  resolutions : 

"Whereas,  His  Honor  the  Mayor  has  officially 
communicated  to  the  Board  the  melancholy  in 
telligence  of  the  decease  of  one  of  New  York's 
u,iost  illustrious  sons,  the  Hon.  Washington  Ir 
ving,  the  sad  event  occurring  at  his  late  residence 
at  Sunny  side,  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  in  the 
adjoining  county,  on  Monday  evening  last,  at  the 
advanced  age  of  76  years  ;  and 

41  Whereas,  In  the  decease  of  our  illustrious  and 
honored  citizen,  it  is  meet  that  the  authorities  of 
this,  the  City  of  his  birth,  should  in  a  becoming 
manner  evince  their  sense  of  the  loss  sustained  by 
the  whole  country  in  being  deprived  of  the  com 
panionship  of  one  who  has  by  his  exemplar}7  life 


and  his  teachings,  through  the  medium  of  his  nu 
merous  literary  publications,  tended  in  a  marked 
legree  to  elevate  the  mind,  enlighten  the  under 
standing,  and  influence  the  will  of  all  those  of 
our  citizens  who  entertain  feelings  of  love  and 
veneration  for  the  cherished  laws  and  institutions 
of  our  beloved  country,  more  especially  in  the 
great  and  inestimable  legacy  bequeathed  to  us  in 
his  Life  of  Washington;  and 

"  Whereas,  In  the  many  and  important  national 
trusts  committed  to  his  charge  as  Secretary  of 
Legation  at  the  Court  of  St.  James,  and  as  Min 
ister  Plenipotentiary  at  the  Court  of  Madrid,  the 
energy  and  fidelity  with  which  he  devoted  his 
rare  talents  and  ability  to  the  best  interests  of 
his  country,  entitle  him  to  the  lasting  gratitude 
of  those  for  whom  he  labored ;  and  the  Common 
Council,  as  the  representatives  of  the  greatest 
commercial  and  most  important  City  in  the 
Union,  feel  called  upon  to  pay  their  feeble  tribute 
of  respect  to  his  memory  as  a  public  man ;  and 

"  Whereas,  Possessing  as  he  did  in  an  eminent 
degree  all  those  attributes  which  constitute  the 
scholar,  the  patriot,  and  the  statesman,  his  loss 
will  be  the  more  sorely  felt,  as  his  death  creates 
a  void  in  the  number  of  our  public  men  which 
cannot  be  filled  in  our  day  and  generation — the 
shining  galaxy  of  noble  names,  of  whom  he  was 
a  bright  particular  star,  having  of  late  years  been 
gradually  fading  from  our  national  horizon,  nev 
er,  we  fear,  to  be  replaced  or  renewed  by  stars 
of  equal  brilliancy;  therefore,  be  it 

"  Resolved,  That  this  Common  Council  deeply 
sympathize  with  the  family  and  relatives  of  our 
deceased  friend  in  their  affliction;  and  in  consid 
eration  of  our  respect  for  his  memory,  do  recom 
mend  that  his  Honor  the  Mayor  direct  the  bells 
in  the  several  fire-alarm  bell-towers  to  be  tolled 
between  the  hours  of  one  and  two  o'clock,  on 
Thursday,  Dec.  1,  1859,  at  which  time  the  funeral 
will  take  place  from  his  late  residence;  that  the 
sextons  of  the  several  churches  or  places  of 
Divine  worship  be  requested  to  toll  the  bells  of 
their  several  churches  at  the  above-mentioned 
time;  that  the  masters  of  vessels  in  the  harbor, 
the  proprietors  of  hotels  and  other  public  build 
ings,  be  requested  to  display  their  flags  at  half- 
mast  during  the  day,  and  that  the  flags  on  the 
City  Hall  and  other  public  buildings  and  institu 
tions  of  the  City,  be  also  displayed  at  half-mast 
during  the  day.  And  be  it  further 

"Resolved,  That  the  Clerk  of  the  Common 
Council  be  directed  to  cause  a  copy  of  the  fore 
going  preamble  and  resolutions  to  be  suitably 
engrossed  and  transmitted  to  the  family  of  the 
deceased." 

The  resolutions  were  adopted  unanimously, 
and  transmitted  to  the  Board  of  Councilmen. 

The  Board  then  adjourned. 

xxvii 


ATHENAEUM  RESOLUTIONS. 


The  Board  of  Oouncilinen  also  held  a  special 
meeting,  at  which  similar  resolutions  were 
passed,  and  remarks  made  by  Messrs.  Ottarson, 
Lent,  and  others.  Mr.  Ottarson  recalled  Mr. 
Irving's  speech  complimentary  to  the  city  at  the 
dinner  given  to  him  in  1832. 


RESOLUTIONS  OF  THE  ATHENJEUM.— THE 
REV,  DR.  OSGOOD'S  REMARKS. 

AT  the  annual  meeting  of  the  Athemeum  Club 
of  this  city,  held  November  30,  at  their  rooms, 
No.  108  Fifth  Avenue,  the  following  resolutions 
were  unanimously  adopted : 

Resolved,  That  the  members  of  the  Athenaeum 
of  New  York,  share  in  the  profound  sorrow  which 
is  everywhere  felt  at  the  death  of  Washington 
Irving. 

Resolved,  That  while  contemplating  this  event, 
which  deprives  the  world  of  letters  of  its  most 
illustrious  ornament,  we  dwell  with  especial 
pride  and  affection  on  the  memory  of  one  who, 
by  a  long  life  of  constant  devotion  to  American 
literature,  has  justly  earned  the  name  of  its  most 
honored  patriarch  and  representative. 

J!,-K<>Ii\<l,  That  the  immortal  legacy  which  he 
has  left  in  his  works  entitles  him  to  the  endur 
ing  gratitude  of  the  American  people,  and  the 
Athenaeum  hereby  offers  its  co-operation  in  em 
bodying  the  sentiment  of  public  appreciation  in 
the  form  of  some  appropriate  memorial. 

Resolved,  That  a  copy  of  these  resolutions, 
signed  by  the  president  and  secretary  of  the  as 
sociation,  be  forwarded  to  the  family  of  the 
deceased,  and  that  they  be  published  in  the 
morning  and  evening  papers  of  the  city. 

GEORGE  FOLSOM,  President. 

FRANK  MOORE,  Secretary. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Osgood,  in  responding  to  these 
resolutions,  remarked  that  he  had  come  late  to 
the  club,  wholly  unaware  that  any  such  resolu 
tions  were  to  be  offered,  and  he  was  not  pre 
pared  to  speak  as  the  dignity  of  the  occasion 
demanded.  He  thought,  however,  that  any  man 
might  venture  upon  a  few  words  of  tribute  to 
Washington  Irving,  and  that  simple  and-  honest 
gratitude  ought  to  be  motive  and  inspiration 
enough.  He  would  therefore  not  shrink  from 
acceding  to  the  request  of  his  friends. 

It  is  best  to  speak  of  the  dead  unaffectedly, 
just  as  we  feel,  or  else  not  to  speak  of  them  at 
all ;  and  the  reason  why  epitaphs  are  said  to  tell 
such  lies,  is  not  because  the  authors  of  them 

xxviii 


mean  deliberately  to  lie,  but  because  they  allow 
themselves  to  take  an  unnatural  position,  and 
fall  into  an  exaggerated,  if  not  false,  temper  and 
style.  Surely,  now  we  may  trust  ourselves  to 
speak  sincerely  of  Irving,  and  say  at  the  outset 
that,  mournful  as  it  is,  we  think  that  we  shall 
never  see  his  face  nor  touch  his  hand  again. 
Yet,  on  the  whole,  there  is  far  more  to  cheer 
and  exalt  than  to  sadden  and  depress  us,  in  his 
death.  His  life  has  been  a  continued  triumph, 
and  any  man  who  knows  what  this  world  is, 
and  how  full  of  trials  and  disappointments,  must 
look  upon  this  veteran  of  letters  as  favored 
alike  in  the  honors  of  his  life  of  seventy-six 
ye-ars  and  in  the  tranquillity  of  his  death.  Death 
takes  him  from  our  sight  only  to  give  new  power 
to  his  works,  and  sets  its  solemn  seal  upon  his 
genius,  not  to  shut  up  its  gold  in  sepulchral  vaults 
or  musty  parchments,  but  to  stamp  it  with  the 
immortal  crown,  and  give  it  universal  currency 
among  men,  with  the  coinage  that  bears  the 
superscription  of  God. 

Washington  Irving's  death  releases  him  from 
a  round  of  labor  most  faithfully  pursued,  and 
his  last  work  on  Washington  at  once  completes 
his  literary  life,  and  makes  his  baptismal  name 
alike  a  name  and  a  title, — his  birth  name  and 
his  honorary  title.  In  fact,  in  his  case,  the  day  of 
his  death  answers  fitly  to  his  birth,  and  the 
honors  that  he  won  by  his  service  till  his  de 
cease,  harmonized  with  the  genius  which  was  in 
born.  It  is  not  always  that  a  man's  genius  and 
character  are  alike  honorable.  If  a  man's  birth 
should  be  celebrated  as  the  date  of  his  genius, 
and  his  death  as  the  date  of  his  completed  char 
acter,  we  may  here,  to-night,  put  both  dates  to 
gether,  and  call  Washington  Irving  blessed,  alike 
in  the  gift  of  native  genius  and  the  graces  of 
gentle  humanity  and  unswerving  fidelity. 

Dr.  Osgood  said  that  he  would  not  presume  to 
survey  Irving's  various  books,  or  try  to  analyze 
his  intellectual  gifts.  He  would  merely  speak 
of  his  genial  temper, — the  charming  good-na 
ture  that  led  him  to  the  practical  optimism  that 
makes  the  best  of  every  thing,  and  enabled  him 
to  bequeath,  not  only  to  his  heirs  at  law,  but  to 
the  whole  world  of  readers,  a  "Sunnyside,"  in 
which  they  may  bask  in  the  light  of  God,  among 
the  fruits  and  flowers  of  free  and  fair  humanity, 
on  the  banks  of  a  river  whose  tlow  and  whose 
music  all  time  is  swelling. 

With  a  word  upon  Irving's  services  to  Ameri 
can  nationality,  and  the  power  of  literature  in 
giving  unity  to  a  people,  far  more  enduring  than 
comes  from  the  schemes  of  political  wire-pullers 
and  panic-makers,  Dr.  Osgood  commended  the 
resolutions,  and  took  his  seat. 


ADDRESS  OF  PRESIDENT  KING. 


PROCEEDINGS  OF  THE  NEW  YORK   HISTOR 
ICAL  SOCIETY. 

AT  the  monthly  meeting  of  the  Society,  held 
Dec.  6,  1859,  after  the  usual  transactions,  the 
President,  the  Hon.  Luther  Bradish,  made  the 
following  remarks  : 

"Since  our  last  meeting,  death  has  again  in 
vaded  the  circle  of  our  Society,  and  removed 
from  among  us  one  of  our  earliest,  most  distin 
guished,  and  most  cherished  members.  After  a 
long,  brilliant,  and  well-closed  life,  WASHINGTON 
IRVING  has  gone  to  his  final  rest !  Few  among 
the  current  events  of  time  have  touched  more 
profoundly  the  heart  of  the  public,  or  moved 
more  deeply  its  finer  sensibilities.  It  was  natural 
that  this  should  be  so.  For  Washington  Irving 
was  not  only  admired  for  the  brilliancy  of  his 
genius  and  its  productions,  but  he  was  beloved 
for  his  genial  spirit,  the  amenity  of  his  charac 
ter,  and  the  beauty  of  his  life.  In  his  departure 
from  among  us  he  has  left  behind  him,  to  remind 
us  of  the  magnitude  of  our  loss,  not  only  the  rich 
heritage  of  his  literary  works,  but  the  benign 
influence  and  encouraging  example  of  his  own 
well-spent  and  successful  life.  In  the  universal 
grief  at  such  a  loss,  the  members  of  this  Society 
deeply  sympathize;  but  in  the  intimate  relations 
of  the  deceased  with  this  Society  as  a  loved  and 
•honored  associate,  we  have  an  additional  and 
peculiar  motive  for  grief. 

ult  is  therefore  fitting  and  proper  that  the  So 
ciety  should,  in  a  manner  becoming  the  occasion 
and  worthy  of  itself,  signalize  its  high  apprecia 
tion  of  the  deceased,  and  its  own  peculiar  and 
profound  grief  at  his  loss.  To  this  end,  I  trust 
that  suitable  measures  may  be  proposed  and 
adopted  on  this  occasion,  and  which  I  now 
invite." 

President  King,  of  Columbia  College,  rose  and 
said,  that  the  duty  had  been  assigned  to  him  of 
laying  before  the  Society  some  resolutions  ex 
pressive  of  the  Society's  appreciation  of  the  loss 
it  had  sustained  in  the  death  of  Washington 
Irving.  They  would  require  no  preface,  and  he 
would  therefore  read  them. 

Resolved,  That  the  New  York  Historical  So 
ciety  has  received  with  deep  and  solemn  interest 
the  intelligence  of  the  death  of  our  distinguished 
associate,  Washington  Irving,  whose  glowing  pen 
has  illustrated  the  annals,  as  the  beauty  of  his 
life  has  advanced  the  character,  of  our  country 
and  our  race. 

Resolved,  That,  while  mourning,  as  all  must 
mourn,  the  loss  of  such  a  man,  we  acknowledge 
the  Goodness  that  vouchsafed  to  him  length  of 
days  to  complete  his  last  great  work ;  and  then, 
turning  from  further  labors,  to  pass  serenely, 


and  without  suffering,  from  mortal  life  to  im 
mortality. 

Resolved,  That  this  Society  will  celebrate  the 
next  anniversary  of  the  birth  of  Washington 
Irving  by  a  Public  Address  on  his  Life,  Charac 
ter,  and  Genius;  that  William  Cullen  Bryant  be 
respectfully  requested  to  prepare  and  deliver  the 
address ;  and  that  the  executive  committee  make 
the  proper  arrangements  for  the  occasion. 

Resolved,  That  a  copy  of  the  foregoing  resolu 
tions,  duly  authenticated,  be  transmitted  by  the 
President  of  the  Society  to  the  family  of  the  de 
ceased. 

ADDRESS    OF    CHARLES    KING. 

The  duty  has  been  assigned  to  me,  Mr.  Presi 
dent,  of  offering  for  the  consideration  of  the  New 
York  Historical  Society  certain  resolutions  ex 
pressive  of  our  feelings  at  the  death  of  Wash 
ington  Irving,  one  of  our  earliest,  oldest,  and 
most  distinguished  members.  There  is  no  pref 
ace  needed  for  the  performance  of  such  a  duty, 
and  I  ask  therefore  at  once  to  read  the  resolu 
tions. 

It  is  only  a  few  short  months  ago  that  we  met 
here  to  express  our  regrets  at  the  decease  of 
another  illustrious  member  of  our  Society,  too 
early  snatched  from  us — our  great  historian 
Prescott.  It  was  an  added  pang  to  our  grief 
then,  that  in  the  meridian  of  his  powers,  with 
his  work  yet  unaccomplished,  and  while  we 
might  reasonably  look  for  continued  years  of 
honorable  labors,  Prescott  was  suddenly  struck 
down.  Now  our  sorrow — not  less  deep  and  sin 
cere — is  yet  soothed  by  the  rellection  that  Irving 
was  graciously  permitted  to  fulfil  his  work  :  that 
his  beautiful  life  was  prolonged  into  genial  old 
age,  with  heart  and  affections  still  fresh,  with 
judgment  matured,  and  with  faculties  to  com- 
'plete  the  crowning  glory  of  his  literary  labor— 
the  biography  of  Washington.  We  cannot  see 
so  bright  a  life  go  out  without  mourning  ;  yet 
we  are  consoled  as  by  the  dying  sunset  of  a  glo 
rious  day.  That  whole  life,  with  the  exception 
of  the  period  passed  in  Europe,  was  spent  in  this 
city  and  vicinity.  Mr.  Irving  was  eminently  a 
New  Yorker,  and  fond  of  being  so  regarded ; 
yet  he  was  universal  and  catholic  in  his  sympa 
thies:  and  well  was  that  largeness  of  sympathy 
repaid  to  him, — for  where  are  not  his  friends  and 
admirers? 

To  those  of  us  who  knew  him  in  early  youth 
— we  are  few  and  far  between  now,  who  did 
thus  know  him — his  personal  character  is  so 
identified  with  his  literary  character,  that  we 
might  well  distrust  our  judgment  of  his  works 
from  attachment  to  his  person :  but  that  the 
united  voice  of  Europe  and  America  confirm-* 
I  the  most  favorable  judgment.  He  has  written 


MR.  BANCROFT'S  ADDRESS. 


much,  and  on  varied  and  widely  differing  sub 
jects,  but  in  all,  well.  In  his  great  biographies, 
careful  in  investigation,  truthful  in  statement, 
impartial  in  deciding,  and  always  aiming  to  be 
right,  he  wins  the  confidence  of  his  readers  by 
his  honesty,  quite  as  much  as  their  admiration 
by  his  pure,  polished,  transparent  style.  In  his 
various  essays  and  fancy  sketches,  we  find  the 
same  genial  temper,  quaint  imaginings,  delicate 
humor,  and  stainless  purity,  which  characterized 
the  man.  Never,  indeed,  was  author  so  com 
pletely  daguerreotyped  in  the  sunlight  of  his 
own  genius  as  Washington  Irving.  He  stands 
revealed  in  all  the  lineaments  of  his  moral  nature 
by  the  brightness  of  his  own  flashing  pen.  And 
as  those  who  knew  him  best  cannot,  in  all  their 
intercourse,  recall  a  word  or  act  of  his  that 
could  offend  the  most  sensitive  delicacy,  so  no 
cheek  ever  felt  a  blush  of  distress  at  any  line  or 
sentiment  he  ever  wrote. 

Of  such  a  life,  Mr.  President,  and  such  liter 
ary  labors,  it  seems  meet  and  fitting  altogether 
that  his  associates  in  this  Society,  should  make 
honorable  record,  as  well  in  affectionate  testimo 
ny  of  their  own  high  regard,  as  for  the  edifica 
tion  of  those  who  shall  come  after  us  to  profit 
by  such  an  example. 

And  it  is  most  fortunate — shall  I  err  in  saying 
Providential?  —  that  the  close  of  such  a  life 
should  be  beautiful  and  serene  as  its  course,  that 
he  should  pass  from  life  to  death  without  a 
struggle,  a  murmur  or  a  sigh;  and  that  his  obse 
quies  should  constitute  the  most  remarkable  in 
cident  known  in  the  record  of  any  private  man. 
Truly  the  heavens  that  smiled  propitious  on  his 
life,  smiled,  too,  propitious  on  his  grave.  On 
one  of  the  loveliest  days  of  our  loveliest  season, 
which  our  Longfellow  tells  us  is  called  by  the 
pious  Acadian  peasants,  "  the  Summer  of  all 
Saints"  our  friend  was  borne  to  his  rest,  follow- 
by  thousands  from  city  and  country,  the  long 
procession  wending  its  way  amid  rustic  displays 
of  admiration,  and  regret — all  business  suspend 
ed,  all  hearts  intent  upon  the  one  common  sor 
row,  and  among  scenes  which  his  pen  lias  im 
mortalized.  Slowly,  slowly  and  sadly  they 
went,  as  the  great  sun  sank  to  its  rest,  "  looking 
with  eyes  of  love,  through  the  golden"  vapors 
around  him,  upon  that  grave  which  was  just 
about  to  close  upon  all  that  was  mortal  of  our 
friend. 

It  is  a  "  "Washington  Irving  day,"  was  an  ex 
clamation  from  many  lips — a  day  in  its  beauty, 
calmness,  and  loveliness,  akin  to  his  life  and  la 
bors  ;  and  turning  from  that  hill-side  where  he 
was  laid  to  his  rest,  to  gaze  upon  the  enchanting 
panorama  around,  and  to  mark  the  demeanor  of 
the  thronging  multitudes  as  they  separated  on 
their  respective  paths,  it  was  impossible  not 

XXX 


to  feel,  with  all  the  joy  of  grief,  that  our  dead 
had  been  fittingly  and  worthily  honored. 

Mr.  President,  I  add  no  more,  and  simply 
move  the  adoption  of  the  resolutions. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Bethune,  upon  being  called  upon 
by  Mr.  Bradish,  said  that  he  arose  at  the  in 
stance  of  an  authority  which  he  would  never 
willingly  disobey,  to  second  the  resolutions.  He 
wished  it  to  be  understood  that  he  did  not  deem 
himself  a  fit  person  to  assume  such  a  charge,  as 
he  had  never  been  brought  into  close  personal 
intimacy  with  Mr.  Irving.  He  had  indeed  re 
sided  in  his  rural  neighborhood  ;  but  he  had 
not  called  upon  him,  out  of  respect  for  his  re 
tirement  and  pursuits.  Dr.  Bethune  spoke  of 
Mr.  Irving's  choice  of  a  residence;  in  the  val 
ley,  not  amid  the  mountains;  by  the  fields  and 
meadows  of  the  broad  Tappaan  sea,  rather  than 
the  Highlands  ;  in  a  congenial  region,  suited 
to  his  temperament.  Aside  from  the  intrin 
sic  beauties  of  Irving's  writings,  lie  considered 
their  great  excellence  to  be  their  moral  worth. 
After  enlarging  somewhat  upon  this  topic,  he 
concluded  as  follows  :  u  Look  upon  the  Life  of 
Washington,  and  you  will  see  that  Washington 
Irving  was,  if  he  chose  to  be,  as  strong  as  he  was 
gentle.  Let  us  honor  his  memory  by  following 
his  example.  If  we  cannot  imitate  the  beauty  of 
his  power, — for  it  is  not  given  to  every  one  to 
be  great,  to  instruct  all,  as  master — let  us,  each 
in  his  sphere,  show  in  his  life  that  he  has  not 
read  in  vain  the  lessons  of  that  beautiful  teacher, 
who,  though  dead,  yet  speaketh." 

ADDRESS    OF    MR.    GEORGE    BANCROFT. 

Memory  cherishes  the  lovely  qualities  and 
beautiful  career  of  our  friend  who  has  just 
ceased  to  be  mortal :  but  words  are  wanting  to 
portray  his  genius  and  his  virtues.  No  Ameri 
can  since  Washington  has  taken  with  him  to  the 
grave  the  undivided  affection  of  the  American 
people  like  Irving.  And  it  is  right  that  it  should 
be  so.  He  came  into  the  world  just  as  a  treaty 
with  England  gave  our  Republic  a  recognized 
existence  among  the  nations;  and  he  was  lulled 
in  his  cradle  by  the  pleasant  songs  of  returning 
peace.  The  first  great  solemnity  that  he  gazed 
upon  in  his  childhood  was  the  inauguration  of 
our  Constitution  ;  so  that  the  early  life  of  him 
who  was  called  to  take  the  foremost  part  in  cre 
ating  an  American  literature,  was  bathed  in  the 
purest  dews  of  our  country's  morning.  As  he 
grew  up,  his  genial  humor  was  nursed  by  the 
traditions  and  inspirations  of  his  own  native 
State  ;  he  opened  his  heart  to  all  the  pleasant  in 
fluences  that  surrounded  him  ;  he  made  himself 
one  with  Nature  as  she  reveals  herself  in  her 
glory  along  the  Hudson  ;  and  when  he  was  scarce 


MERITS  AS  AN  HISTORIAN. 


six  and  twenty  years  old  he  had  written  what  I  spiration,  and  almost  without  interlineation   or 
the  world  will  not  suffer  to  be  forgotten.  |  erasure. 

I   remember   it   to    this   day:    it  was   his  St. 
Marie1  s  Ece,  from  the  words  "  I  am  now  alone  in 


Thus  far  his  literary  activity  had  been  the 
outgoing  of  the  joyousness  of  youth  ;  his  mind 
was  to  be  ripened,  his  character  to  be  matured, 
his  rightful  career  to  be  made  plain  by  the  trials 
of  affliction.  He  had  loved  and  been  beloved ; 
and  he  watched,  to  use  his  own  words,  "  beauty 
and  innocence  languish  into  the  tomb.'1  The 
being  was  departed  whom  he  had  loved  as  he 


never  again  was  to  love  in  this  world,  who  had 
loved  him  as  he  was  never  again  to  be  loved  ; 
and  the  gladsome  humor  that  marked  his  en 
trance  into  life  had  become,  not  subdued,  but   is  still  dear  to  the  American  people,  is  a  marvel. 
tinged  by  a  sweet-souled  melancholy,  and  a  large  I  No  one  has  so  painted  the  Father  of  his  Country 

T _  _  ,_ii, :<.u   i  •.,!•„  ,1       ~vr ,    AI,  „  i:r_  .       __,i__.j.i__   ,i-    -i  _•      • ,       /. 


my  chamber,''  to  the  end.  He  that  studies  such 
passages  closely  will  find  confessions  of  Irving's 
own  inward  experience  and  affections. 

As  an  historian,  Irving  stands  in  the  front 
rank.  His  life  of  Columbus  has  all  kinds  of  merit 
— research,  critical  judgment,  interest  in  the  nar 


rative,  picturesque  description  and  golden  style  ; 
exquisite  in  the  melody  of  its  cadences  and  its 
choice  of  words.  His  Life  of  Washington,  which 


to  the  life ;  modestly  disclaiming  great  extent  of 
original  research,  he  has  yet  added  much  that  was 
not  known  before.  But  what  distinguishes  him 
is  the  grace  and  facility  of  his  movement.  He 
writes  American  history,  as  it  were,  by  the  aid  of 
special  endowments  ;  he  takes  with  him  a  candor 


tiiat  never  fails  ;  a  clear,  i 


judgment,  and 


and  more  earnest  sympathy  with  his  kind.  Now, 
when  he  stood  midway  in  the  path  of  human 
life,  of  a  sudden  his  outward  fortune  was  swept 
away  and  disappeared,  and  he  was  left  in  posses 
sion  of  nothing  but  his  own  mind.  Blessed  ad 
versity  !  that  opened  to  him  the  treasures  which 
lay  heaped  up  within  his  soul.  Sorrow  and 
misfortune  only  brought  out  in  its  brightness  the 
purity  of  his  nature,  and  were  but  as  clouds 
that  reflect  the  sunshine  in  a  thousand  hues. 

In  a  foreign  laud,  alone,  impoverished,  be 
reaved,  he  was  so  good  and  true,  we  might  also 
say  angels  ministered  to  him.  He  looked  with  se 
rene  wisdom  upon  the  angry  waves  that  threaten 
ed  him,  and  they  passed  under  him  without  harm. 

The  career  of  letters  now  claimed  him  for  its 
service.  He  had  not  been  deeply  read  in  books ; 
but  his  mind  was  richly  stored  with  images  of 
beauty  and  primal  truths,  and  he  knew  nature 
by  heart.  The  English  language,  which  better 
than  any  other  can  express  the  sincerity  of  affec 
tion,  the  delicacy  of  sentiment,  the  freshness  of 
rural  scenes,  spread  out  its  boundless  wealth  as 
his  own  ;  and  at  that  period  of  what  he  himself 
calls  "his  troubled  life,"  he  conquered  for  him 
self  fame  and  good  will  wherever  that  language 
is  spoken. 

It  was  at  this  period  of  his  life  that,  during  a 
summer  at  Paris,  I  formed  with  him  that  relation  I  flight  has  been  borne  upward  on  the  affections  of 


an  unrivalled  keenness  of  insight  into  character. 
He  may  err  in  minor  details,  but  never  in  the 
general  effect.  No  one  has  drawn  so  true,  and 
touching,  and  vivid  a  picture  of  Washington  in 
his  retirement,  as  Irving,  who  published  it  while 
suffering  from  prostration  of  the  nerves,  a  depres 
sion  of  spirits,  and  that  attack  of  asthma  which 
harassed  him  to  the  last. 

Nor  let  it  be  forgotten  that  Irving  is  a  native 
of  our  own  New  York.  Like  Chaucer,  and  Mil 
ton,  and  Pope,  and  Gray,  his  birthplace  was  in 
the  heart  of  a  city.  Among  the  Greeks,  when  a 
victor  returned  from  the  Olympian  games,  the 
citizens  of  his  own  home  esteemed  his  prizes  their 
own,  went  out  to  welcome  his  return,  and  would 
even  break  down  the  walls  to  receive  him  in 
greater  triumph.  Our  Irving  has  wrestled  in  the 
game  of  life  and  came  off  the  conqueror ;  he  has 
gone  to  his  long  home ;  on  the  mildest  of  winter 
days  we  have  surrounded  him  with  flowers  and 
laid  him  among  his  kindred,  and  his  spirit  in  its 


of  friendly  intimacy  which  grew  in  strength  to 
the  last.  Time  has  in  a  measure  effaced  the  rela 
tive  difference  of  our  years,  but  then  he  was  al 
most  twice  as  old  as  I.  As  we  roamed  together 
over  the  fields  round  Paris,  many  an  earnest,  and 
noble,  and  encouraging  Avord  fell  from  him  for 
my  behalf ;  and  sometimes  he  would  speak  to  me 
of  his  own  occupations.  How  he  proceeded  with 
descriptions,  I  cannot  say ;  but  I  found  that 
where  he  gave  expression  to  feeling,  he  would 
write  continuously,  pouring  out  as  it  were  at  one 
gush  all  he  intended  to  give  forth.  One  evening, 
after  we  had  been  many  hours  together,  he  took 
me  to  his  room  and  read  to  me  what  he  had  writ 
ten  at  one  sitting,  without  pause,  without  one  in- 


countless  multitudes.  Now,  what  shall  we  do 
here  to  mark  for  him  our  veneration  and  love1? 
He  gave  to  this  city  of  merchants  fame  through 
out  the  world  of  letters.  Will  not,  then,  the 
merchants  of  New  York  raise  to  his  memory  a 
statue  of  purest  marble?  It  would  be  the  pay 
ment  of  a  debt  to  his  fame,  a  just  tribute  to  his 
virtues,  a  lesson  to  the  rising  generations.  Fa 
thers  might  then  take  their  sons  to  gaze  on  his 
lineaments,  and  say,  "There  is  the  man  who  du 
ring  more  than  fifty  years  employed  his  pen  as 
none  other  could  have  done,  and  in  all  that  time 
never  wrote  one  word  that  was  tainted  by  skep 
ticism,  nor  one  line  that  was  not  as  chaste  and 
pure  as  the  violets  of  Spring." 

xxxi 


EARLY  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


CHAKACTEEISTICS  OF  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 
THE  ADDRESS  OF  DR.  JOIIX  W.  FRANCIS. 

In  my  attendance  on  this  meeting  of  the  His 
torical  Society,  it  was  my  purpose  to  remain  a 
listener,  rather  than  be  a  speaker.  The  deep 
interest  which  the  notices  of  the  life  of  the  illus 
trious  deceased  have  awakened  everywhere,  and 
the  grateful  tributes  now  paid  to  the  memory  of 
the  great  author  and  his  virtuous  career,  by  the 
several  gentlemen  who  have  gratified  this  large 
assembly  by  their  addresses  this  evening,  have 
rendered  the  announcement  of  his  death,  if  pos 
sible,  still  more  impressive  and  instructive,  and 
to  this  institution  a  memorable  event  indeed.  I 
most  cordially  agree  with  every  sentiment  that 
has  been  expressed  with  regard  to  the  spotless 
integrity  of  his  life,  the  purity  and  excellence  of 
his  writings,  and  the  mighty  influence  they  have 
had,  and  are  destined  to  maintain  in  after  time, 
in  the  republic  of  letters.  The  gentlemen  who 
have  so  amply  given  us  their  opinion  on  the 
richness  of  his  intellect,  the  exquisite  finish  and 
chasteness  of  his  style,  the  fertility  of  his  imagi 
nation,  his  humor,  his  wit,  his  delicate  satire, 
and  e'en  the  very  habits  of  the  man,  have  ren 
dered  additional  remarks  of  that  import  super 
fluous  on  this  occasion;  and  yet  I  cannot  but 
believe,  in  part,  that  many  of  their"  inferences, 
however  faithfully  deduced,  have  been  drawn 
more  from  a  study  of  his  printed  works  than 
from  a  close  personal  knowledge  of  the  man 
himself.  I  am  aware  that  individually  he  was 
widely  known,  and  that  his  character  was  well 
understood ;  and  I  am  ready  to  acknowledge  the 
obligations  we  are  under  for  the  benefit  of  that 
wisdom  given  us  at  this  meeting  which  their 
personal  knowledge  of  him  in  later  years  has 
enabled  them  to  impart. 

But  there  is  a  period  in  the  life  of  the  great 
author  in  which  I  think  I  have  some  advantages, 
or  information  at  least,  over  the  orators  of  to 
night;  and  that  fact,  and  that  alone,  impels  me 
to  the  statement  of  a  few  circumstances  associa 
ted  with  Washington  Irving  during  a  portion  of 
his  school-boy  days.  In  casting  my  eyes  around 
this  assembly  I  see  few  older  than  myself,  and 
none,  I  believe,  acquainted  with  him  at  the  period 
to  which  I  allude  in  the  same  relationship  with 
myself.  I  was  a  boy  at  the  same  school  with 
young  Irving,  now  some  sixty-two  years  ago,  in 
1797.  The  institution  was  a  male  seminary,  sit 
uated  on  John-street,  next  to  the  primary  Meth 
odist  Meeting-house,  and  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
renowned  John-street  Theatre.  There  was  some 
six  years'  difference  in  our  ages,  and  Irving  oc 
cupied  a  place  in  the  school  among  the  older 
youth  at  the  head,  where  the  prominent  master 
had  his  desk  and  exercised  his  ferule.  The 
xxxii 


younger  the  scholar,  the  nearer  the  entrance  or 
door  seemed  to  be  the  disposition  of  the  seat  for 
him.  In  that  day  of  dreary  teaching  in  our 
academies,  young  Irving  was  associated  with 
boys  of  about  the  same  age  with  himself,  and 
their  studies  blended  in  classes  in  the  ordinary 
way  so  common  in  school-arrangements.  About 
four  years  since,  at  an  interview  with  Mr.  Irving, 
the  conversation  turned  to  former  times,  and  I 
asked  him  if  he  had  a  fair  recollection  of  his 
school-associates  of  those  days.  He  replied  he 
believed  they  had  all  departed.  I  stated  that  I 
had  in  memory  two  survivors:  one  engaged  in 
the  lottery  of  political  life,  the  other  cultivating 
cabbages  on  his  ample  farm,  with  all  the  indus 
try  of  an  old  Knickerbocker,  though  he  was 
represented  to  be  worth  nigh  half  a  million  of 
dollars.  Mr.  Irving  manifested  a  desire  to  make 
a  visit  to  this  legitimate  descendant  of  the  olden 
times,  and  we  made  an  arrangement  witli  that 
intent;  but  circumstances  intervened,  and  the 
chances  of  life  prevented  it. 

I  remember  well  the  elementary  books  scat 
tered  about  the  seminary,  so  characteristic  of  a 
common  English  school  at  that  period :  the 
Columbian  Orator  of  Bingham,  and  Hamilton 
Moore's  Monitor;  the  Schoolmaster'* 9  Assistant  of 
Dil worth,  and  the  Arithmetic  of  Pike,  with  here 
and  there  a  copy  of  Dytch's  English  Dictionary. 
In  those  days,  ballads,  on  printed  slips,  or  folded 
in  8vo  half-sheets,  were  widely  sold  in  the  streets, 
and  many  found  their  way  into  the  school-house. 
Watty  and  Meg  was  of  the  number,  supposed 
generally  to  be  an  offspring  of  Burns,  but  after 
wards  known  as  an  early  production  of  the  cel 
ebrated  Alexander  Wilson,  the  great  author  of 
American  Ornithology;  many  of  Dibdin's  fa 
mous  songs,  and  Mrs.  Kowson's  America,  Com 
merce,  and  Freedom,  were  also  in  the  hands  of 
many  scholars.  It  may  have  been  that  the 
patriotism  of  the  times  in  Adams'  administration 
against  the  French,  led  to  the  distribution  or 
toleration  of  this  sort  of  literature  among  the 
boys,  the  better  to  diffuse  the  patriotic  sentiment 
of  the  day.  Young  Irving,  I  think,  was  more 
of  a  general  reader  than  an  exact  student,  so  far 
as  prescribed  duties  enjoined.  I  take  it  that 
even  at  that  juvenile  period  he  had  already 
adopted  his  own  peculiar  method  of  obtaining 
knowledge.  He  ruminated  within  himself,  while 
his  often  seeming  listlessness  was  seizing  upon 
ludicrous  perplexities  which  fell  under  his  own 
notice.  That  quick  foresightedness,  that  apt 
seizure  of  a  novelty,  a  principle,  or  a  fact,  that 
prompt  comprehension  when  too  much  labor 
was  not  demanded,  rendered  it  comparatively 
an  easy  matter  for  him  to  master  his  Rule  of 
Three;  and  as  to  grammar,  we  may  infer,  from 
the  ever-dominant  beauty  and  gracefulness  of 


THE  OLD  SCHOOL-BOOKS. 


his  diction  in  all  his  writings,  that  he  was  ety 
mological  from  the  beginning.  The  leading 
teacher  of  the  institution  was  ever  insisting  on 
the  importance  of  rhetoric,  and  struggled  hard 
to  make  every  boy  a  Cicero.  He  assigned  pieces 
for  memory,  to  be  rehearsed  at  the  public  exhi 
bitions  of  his  scholars,  and  such  was  his  ethno 
logical  science  and  his  acquaintance  with  the 
doctrine  of  temperaments,  that  he  committed  to 
Irving  the  heroic  lines — 

"  My  voice  is  still  for  tear,"  Sec. — 

while  I,  nearly  seven  years  younger,  was  given 
for  rhetorical  display — 

"  Pity  the  sorrows  of  a  poor  old  man,"  &c 
There  was  a  curious  conflict  existing  in  the 
school  between  the  principal  and  his  assistant- 
instructor:  the  former  a  legitimate  burgher  of 
the  city,  the  latter  a  New  England  pedagogue. 
So  far  as  I  can  remember,  something  depended 
on  the  choice  of  the  boy's  parents  in  the  selec 
tion  of  his  studies  ;  but  if  not  expressed  other 
wise,  the  principal  stuck  earnestly  to  Dilworth, 
while  the  assistant,  for  his  section  of  instruction, 
held  to  Noah  Webster.  The  same  system  or  rule 
was  adopted  with  the  school  in  unfolding  the 
intricacies  of  arithmetic:  Dilworth  was  all  in 
nil  with  the  principal,  while  Nicholas  Pike,  with 
his  amended  federal  currency,  was  imparted  by 
the  assistant.  To  render  this  sketch  of  the  insti 
tution  where  young  Irving  received  the  earlier 
principles  of  his  school-education  less  imperfect, 
it  may  be  stated  that  the  slender  duodecimo 
volume  of  Morse's  geography  was  in  use.  This 
book  was  a  novelty  in  school-apparatus,  being 
the  first  of  its  kind  which  professed  an  account 
of  the  different  States  of  the  Union,  and  it  en 
listed  the  attention  of  tTie  schoolmasters.  The 
glowing  description  of  Xew  England  by  the 
reverend  author,  its  fertile  soil  and  products, 
often  invoked  a  smile  from  the  old  Knickerbocker 
instructors.  The  picture  which  the  patriotic 
author  had  drawn  of  Wethersfield,  its  fair  dam 
sels  and  its  exuberant  onions,  invoked  merriment 
among  the  juvenile  learners,  and  secured  for  a 
while  for  the  book  the  sobriquet,  the  onion  edi 
tion.  There  was,  besides,  a  special  teacher  of 
elocution,  in  partial  association  with  the  acade- 
ln>Ti  by  the  name  of  Milne.  He  was  the  com 
piler  of  a  book  entitled  the  Well-bred  Scholar;  a 
man  of  taste,  a  dramatic  writer,  if  not  a  per 
former.  He  possessed  a  magisterial  air,  a  robust 
and  athletic  fulness;  lived  plethoric,  and  died,  I 
believe,  apoplectic.  He  was  an  Englishman  by 
birth,  and  perhaps  the  first  among  us,  in  the 
progress  of  instruction,  who  attempted  expound 
ing  the  art  of  speaking.  Where  or  how  young 
Irving  acquired  a  knowledge  of  the  classics  I  am 
unable  to  say.  We  had  but  three  or  four  schools 
5 


of  any  pretensions  among  us  in  that  department 
of  education  at  that  time,  and  Irving,  so  far  as 
I  can  learn,  was  not  a  scholar  of  Edward  Riggs, 
a  renowned  teacher  of  the  Latin,  and  the  author 
of  a  popular  grammar  of  that  tongue — the  first, 
indeed,  of  American  manufacture  in  New  York, 
as  that  of  the  famous  old  Cheever  was  of  that 
of  Boston.  Irving,  however,  was  preparing  to 
enter  Columbia  College,  but  health  prevented 
his  further  progress. 

Some  few  years  after  we  find  Irving  a  student 
at  law  with  that  eminent  advocate,  the  late 
Josiah  Ogden  Hoffman.  What  proficiency  he 
made  in  that  abstract  study  must  be  left  to  con 
jecture  ;  but  in  due  season  he  opened  a  law-office 
in  Pearl-street,  near  Coenties  Slip.  His  health 
was  still  precarious,  and  he  was  threatened  with 
pulmonary  mischiefs.  He  was  slender  and  deli 
cate  in  appearance,  but  never  weary  in  measures 
to  improve  his  condition.  For  wholesome  ex 
ercise  he  carried  into  practical  operation  a  sug 
gestion  to  be  engaged  in  some  mechanical  opera 
tion  daily,  and  for  a  specified  time  to  saw  wood, 
in  an  apartment  below  his  office ;  and  it  is  more 
than  probable  that  this  service  proved  of  greater 
benefit  to  his  physical  powers  than  might  have 
been  derived  at  that  time  from  nostrums  and  a 
sea- voyage. 

We  need  scarcely  apprehend  falling  into  error 
when  we  affirm  that  his  law-office  proved 
neither  burdensome  to  his  mental  nor  physical 
faculties.  The  legal  profession,  then,  as  now, 
abounded  in  numbers  and  in  great  talent.  More 
over,  the  contemplative  q-ualities  of  Irving  were 
directed  in  other  channels.  He  needed  diver 
sion  ;  he  demanded  variety  ;  and  his  views  of  life 
were  comprehensi  ve.  It  is  a  remark  well  founded, 
that  realities  are  but  dimly  to  be  traced  in  the 
twilight  of  the  imagination,  and  the  first  im 
pulses  of  genius  are  often  to  be  illustrated  by  the 
subsequent  career  of  the  individual.  Young 
Irving  at  school  was  a  quiet  boy.  I  can  narrate 
no  wild  freaks  or  sports,  originating  from  his 
conduct.  It  is  true,  that  except  from  the  gen 
eral  good  order  of  his  section  of  the  room,  and 
his  devotion  to  reading,  I  had  little  chance  to 
do  more  than  occasionally  look  at  him  as  at 
other  scholars,  witness  his  movements  in  the 
streets,  and  observe  his  rather  taciturn  and  se 
questered  way.  He  seemed  to  have  a  habit  of 
loneliness  or  abstraction ;  but  he  was  early  a 
reader,  and  I  might  say  an  observer  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end  of  his  life.  These  quali 
ties,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed,  were  so  prominent 
as  to  induce  special  notice  among  his  school- 
associates  at  that  period  of  his  life;  yet  as  his 
teacher  seemed  to  bestow  particular  attention  on 
his  pupil,  and  often  spoke  of  it  in  after  time,  his 
rnaturer  wisdom  may  have  found  in  his  scholar 

xxxiii 


FONDNESS  FOE  THE  DRAMA. 


a  temperament  of  peculiar  indications,  and  thus 
tolerated  the  impulse  of  a  youth  who  gave 
promise  of  character.  Among  the  incidents  of 
young  Irving's  life,  we  kiiow  him  to  have  been 
remarkable  for  his  pedestrian  excursions ;  at 
times  alone,  sometimes  accompanied  with  his  in 
timate  friends,  Paulding,  Brevoort,  Verplanck, 
and  Blauvelt,  an  unfledged  poet  of  New  Jersey. 
His  rambles  at  Weehawken  and  Powles'  Hook  ; 
his  tours  to  the  Passaic ;  his  grouse  excursions 
at  Hempstead;  his  walks  through  the  Stuyve- 
sant  lane  of  cherry-trees  (which,  it  may  be  re 
marked,  passed  directly  through  the  very  grounds 
on  which  this  edifice  where  we  are  now  con 
vened  stands),  all  betrayed  that  love  of  nature 
which  he  has  so  luxuriantly  unfolded  in  his  cap 
tivating  writings. 

These  rambles  were  profitable  to  health  and 
wholesome  to  intellect ;  they  furnished  materials 
for  contemplation  and  enlarged  intellectual  capa 
city  :  but  Irving  at  this  juncture  in  early  man 
hood  sought  out  other  resources  of  mental  grati 
fication.  He  was  bookish,  and  he  read;  he  indi 
vidualized  the  author  whom  he  studied,  and  he 
extended  the  circle  of  his  personal  associations. 
He  must  have  formed  an  acquaintance  with  a 
portion  of  that  mass  of  men  who  flourished  at 
that  dawn  of  literary  effort  in  this  city.  His  pro 
fession,  that  of  law,  had  secured  to  him  some 
knowledge  of  Hamilton  and  Burr,  of  Harrison 
and  Golden,  of  Williams  and  Jay,  of  Jones  and 
Livingston  ;  but  with  a  generous  freedom  he  could 
seek  out  Brown,  the  novelist,  Linn,  the  poet, 
Allsop,  Clifton,  and  Low.  This  you  will  say  is  a 
brief  list ;  but  genuine  writers  at  that  day  were 
not  a  common  article.  In  my  searches  after  nov 
elties  I  have  walked  a  day  to  cast  a  glance  at  an 
author ;  and  a  reward  of  a  thousand  dollars  could 
not  bring  forth  for  inspection  a  penny-a-liner. 
For  my  own  part  I  distinctly  recollect  the  first 
time  I  "caught  a  glimpse  of  Noah  Webster,  when  I 
felt  a  triumph  as  if  I  had  made  a  discovery  in 
philosophy.  But  there  were  other  sources  of  in 
struction  abundantly  accessible  to  all,  and  Irving 
would  draw  wisdom  from  them  :  the  acting  drama 
of  those  times  yielded  gratification  to  the  most  re 
fined  in  taste:  the  remnant  of  the  old  American 
company  of  performers  was  stirring  in  their  vo 
cation  and  the  great  renown  which  waited  upon 
their  achievements  was  recognized  as  substantial 
ly  earned.  That  Irving's  imagination  was  at  an 
early  period  enamored  of  scenic  exhibitions,  and 
that  he  took  great  delight  in  theatrical  displays, 
as  holding  the  "  mirror  up  to  nature,"  is  the  con 
current  testimony  of  all  acquainted  with  him 
during  his  minority.  That  his  mind  was  fructi 
fied  by  a  close  study  of  the  older  dramatists  I 
think  a  safe  inference.  He  studied  the  Spanish 
language  the  better  to  comprehend  the  Spanisl 

xxxiv 


drama.  That  fountain  of  knowledge  yields  a  liv- 
ng  spring  to  all  who  desire  to  delineate  human 
character;  and  who  has  excelled  Irving  in  that 
branch  of  intricate  illustration?  The  animating 
movements,  the  picturesque  displays  made  fiction 
almost  a  reality,  and  illumined  a  mind  so  suscep 
tible  of  impression.  The  drama,  with  sensibilities 
like  his,  roused  to  newness  of  reflection,  dissipa 
ted  ennui,  and  invoked  the  inner  powers  of  a 
lonely  student  to  increased  literary  effort.  He 
must  have  availed  himself  of  these  advantages, 
now  still  further  multiplying  by  the  efforts  of 
Dunlap  and  Smith  to  add  novelty  to  the  stage,  if 
not  by  gorgeous  scenery,  yet  by  the  bringing  for 
ward  the  popular  productions  of  Kotzebue  and 
Schiller,  the  acknowledged  masters  of  the  drama 
at  that  time  in  Germany.  A  personal  knowledge 
of  some  facts,  and  the  humorous  and  critical  dis 
quisitions  on  the  stage,  which  Irving  published 
shortly  after,  over  the  name  of  Jonathan  Oldstyle, 
demonstrate  his  intimacy  with  this  species  of  lit 
erature.  His  Salmagundi  adds  to  our  proofs  of 
this  fact. 

I  forbear  to  enter  into  a  consideration  of  the 
literary  labors  of  Mr.  Irving,  voluminous  as  they 
are,  and  precious  as  the  world  acknowledges 
them.  His  Knickerbockers  History  excited  an 
interest  in  the  metropolis  never  before  roused  up 
by  any  literary  occurrence  ;  scarcely,  perhaps,  by 
any  public  event.  The  reading  community,  upon 
its  first  appearance,  were  seized  with  amaze 
ment  at  the  wondrous  antiquarian  research  of 
the  author,  his  lifelike  pictures  of  the  olden 
times,  and  his  boundless  humor  and  refined  wit ; 
and  many  melted  in  sympathy  at  the  fate  of  old 
Diedrick  himself,  the  deserted  inhabitant  of  the 
Mulberry -street  tenement.  I  confess  myself  to 
have  been  one  of  the  thousands  who  sought  out 
his  obscure  lodgings  in  vain.  The  brilliant 
career  of  Mr.  Irving  may  be  dated  from  the  pub 
lication  of  this  assumed  history,  and  the  wheel  of 
fortune  now  turned  in  his  behalf.  The  book  was 
received  by  Campbell,  the  poet :  through  the 
hands  of  Henry  Brevoort,  Walter  Scott  possessed 
a  copy,  and  almost  raved  with  delight  in  its  pe 
rusal.  The  omnipotent  wit  and  satirist,  George 
Canning,  had  nigh  fractured  his  ribs  by  laughter 
over  its  pages.  The  reading  public  sought  after 
it,  and  what  the  select  averred,  the  masses  con 
firmed.  Mr.  Irving  now  became  the  lion  of  Lon 
don,  and  of  the  literary  world.  It  is,  however, 
not  of  his  writings  that  I  would  wish  to  speak,  at 
present,  but  rather  confine  myself  to  a  few  remi 
niscences  of  his  individuality.  The  ample  page  of 
criticism  has  already  recorded  his  vast  literary 
merits,  and  inscribed  his  name  on  the  tablet  of 
immortality.  He  is  national,  he  is  universal. 

Did  not  the  lateness  of  the  evening  forbid,  I 
would  dwell  upon  that  remarkable  faculty  which 


CHARACTERISTICS. 


Irving  possessed  of  rejoicing  in  the  luxuries  and 
beauties  of  nature ;  his  love  of  animals,  and  his 
kindly  feelings  for  their  comfort ;  his  delight  in 
surveying  the  garden  and  the  farm-yard ;  his 
zeal  to  behold  the  anomalies  of  the  vegetable 
world;  his  gratification  in  comprehending  the 
labors  of  the  naturalist ;  and  I  would  attempt  to 
point  out  how  the  defects  of  the  schools  of  his 
boyhood  were  overcome  by  reading,  and  a  close 
observation  of  men  and  things.  He  had  the 
power  of  drawing  knowledge  from  minute  as 
well  as  great  occurrences,  from  the  ludicrous  as 
well  as  the  severe.  He  has  more  than  once 
dwelt  with  me  upon  the  odd  characters  he  had 
encountered  in  the  streets  of  our  city,  in  those 
early  days,  and  none  seems  to  have  made  a 
stronger  impression  on  him  than  the  once  famous 
"Wilhelm  Hoffmeister,  popularly  known  as  Billy 
the  Fiddler.  I  do  not  know  whether  this  musi 
cal  genius  and  singulars-constructed  man  finds 
a  place  in  any  of  Irving's  writings. 

You  all,  gentlemen,  have  dwelt  upon  the 
genial  humor  of  Irving ;  his  kindly  nature  was 
ever  apparent.  An  instance  in  illustration  I 
will  give.  Upon  his  return  from  his  first  Euro 
pean  tour,  after  an  absence  of  two  years,  he  had 
scarcely  entered  into  his  parent's  domicile  in 
William-street,  when  his  first  inquiry  was  con 
cerning  the  condition  and  prospects  of  an  unfor 
tunate  maimed  boy,  of  the  neighborhood,  who 
possessed  singular  qualities  of  mental  organiza 
tion.  Mr.  Irving  had  a  marvellous  tendency  to 
the  curious.  Had  he  walked  through  a  lunatic 
asylum  he  would  seem  to  have  been  qualified  to 
write  a  treatise  on  insanity  ;  had  he  been  bred 
to  physic, — could  his  sensibilities  have  endured 
such  servitude, — he  might  have  become  famous 
for  his  descriptive  powers  in  diagnostic  pathol 
ogy.  Language  like  this  may  sound  extrava 
gant  ;  but  the  devoted  reader  of  his  pages  will 
be  strengthened  in  such  an  opinion,  by  comparing 
the  propriety  and  clearness  of  his  diction  in  all 
he  utters  touching  the  subject  in  hand,  whether 
belonging  to  the  schools  of  arts  or  of  letters, 
whether  in  technical  science  or  in  the  philosophy 
of  nature.  Mr.  Irving  was  the  best  judge  of  his 
own  faculties  and  attainments,  and  what  he  as 
sumed  he  accomplished.  His  competitor  is  yet 
to  be  discovered. 

His  courteous  and  benignant  intercourse  with 
others,  whether  in  the  humbler  or  the  higher 
walks  of  life,  was  of  so  captivating  a  character 
as  never  to  create  a  rebellious  feeling,  but  ever 
awaken  emotions  of  friendship.  Unobtrusive, 
with  his  vast  merits,  nay  almost  timid,  he  won 
esteem  from  all  beholders.  He  possessed  a  quick 
discernment  in  the  analysis  of  character.  I  will 
give  an  example.  Jarvis,  the  painter,  had  just 
finished  the  head  of  a  venerable  member  of  the 


bar,  and  courteously  requested,  Lavater-like,  Mr. 
Irving's  opinion  of  the  character.  "  You  have 
faithfully  delineated  the  Genius  of  Dulness," 
replied  Irving.  The  answer  was  a  biography  of 
the  individual.  There  was  a  trait  of  singular 
and  peculiar  excellence  in  Mr.  Irving, — of  all 
mortals  he  was  the  freest  of  envy ;  and  merit  of 
every  order  he  was  ready  to  recognize.  A  lit 
erary  man,  par  excellence,  he  could  admire  the 
arts,  and  look  upon  mechanical  skill  and  the  ar 
tisan  with  the  feelings,  if  not  the  acquisition,  of 
the  most  accomplished  in  scientific  pursuits  ;  he 
knew  that  intellect  presided  in  mechanics  as  well 
as  in  the  Homeric  song.  He  endured  without 
annoyance  the  renown  which  waited  upon  the 
career  of  Fenimore  Cooper ;  nay,  he  has  writ 
ten  of  the  genius  of  his  great  rival  in  terms  of 
strongest  laudation,  in  admiration  of  his  noble 
conceptions  and  his  graphic  powers.  In  like 
manner  has  he  treated  our  Bryant.  He  rarely 
volunteered  his  opinion,  but  he  never  turn 
ed  his  back  on  what  he  had  once  expressed. 
Were  I  to  concentrate  my  views  on  the  more 
immediate  sources  of  that  knowledge,  in  his 
several  writings,  which  he  displayed  with  such 
copious  profusion  both  in  active  life  and  in  let 
ters,  I  would  affirm  that  a  cautious  reading  of 
good  authors,  an  almost  unquenchable  thirst  for 
dramatic  literature  in  early  manhood,  and  a  wide 
observation,  secured  by  much  travel,  of  the 
scenery  of  the  bustling  world,  and  of  nature  her 
self,  had  fertilized  that  peculiar  and  susceptible 
mind,  and  given  to  his  happy  mental  organiza 
tion  its  most  potent  charms. 

The  deduction  is  safe,  if  formed  even  from  the 
study  of  his  writings  alone,  that  he  was  fond  of 
incidents  and  adventures  ;  they  enriched  his  gal 
lery  for  illustration.  Like  Hawthorne,  he  ad 
mired  a  snow-storm  ;  he  loved  music ;  he  loved 
little  children,  that  faithful  index  of  the  human 
soul,  and  often  participated  in  their  innocent 
sports.  He  abjured  excess,  and  was,  at  all  times, 
moderate  in  indulgence  at  the  table.  He  detested 
tobacco  in  every  form,  with  all  the  abhorrence  of 
Doctor  Franklin  or  Daniel  Webster. 

His  toilet  was  neat ;  his  dress  free  from  pecu 
liarities  :  the  extremes  of  fashion  never  reached 
him.  His  portrait,  with  the  ample  furred  coat, 
executed  by  Jarvis,  and  painted  after  the  appear 
ance  of  the  Knickerbocker  history,  is  the  most 
characteristic  of  him  at  that  period  of  his  life, 
and  gives  the  most  striking  idea  of  his  mental 
aspect,  as  he  was  daily  seen  in  public,  accompa 
nied  with  his  friend  Renwick,  or  with  the  superb 
Decatur,  or  old  Ironsides. 

About  two  months  before  his  death,  Mr. 
Irving  made  his  final  visit  to  this  city  from  his 
residence  at  Sunnyside.  He  had  an  official  trust 
to  fulfil  as  President  of  the  Board  of  Trustees 

XXXV 


MR.  LONGFELLOW'S  ADDRESS. 


of  the  Astor  Library :  he  manifested  no  special 
indications  of  alarming  physical  suffering.  Yet 
it  was  observed  he  had  less  of  muscular  strength, 
and  that  his  frame  was  much  attenuated.  With 
hrs  intimate  friend,  the  learned  librarian,  Dr. 
Cogswell,  having  surveyed  with  gratification  the 
improvements  of  the  enlarged  edifice  and  the 
accessions  of  books  recently  made  to  that  great 
institution,  he  remarked  with  some  earnestness, 
"What,  Doctor,  might  have  been  my  destiny  could 
I  have  commanded  these  treasures  in  my  youth !" 

Foreign  criticism  has  exerted  her  refined  pow 
ers  in  unfolding  the  merits  and  the  beauties  in 
herent  in  the  writings  of  our  illustrious  friend 
and  associate;  the  schools  of  Addison  and  of 
Johnson  have  each  awarded  to  him  the  laurel. 
At  home  a  dissentient  voice  has  not  been  ex 
pressed,  and  the  republic  at  large  has  testified  to 
the  purity  of  his  principles  and  the  worth  of  his 
labors  by  a  sale  almost  unparalleled  in  the  annals 
of  bibliopoly.  Allibone,  with  the  impartiality  of 
a  literary  historian,  has  given  us  a  charming  view 
of  this  gratifying  truth.  But  I  shall  make  but 
one  brief  citation  on  the  subject  of  our  national 
author's  qualities  ;  it  is  from  a  classical  pen,  that 
has  repeatedly  dwelt  upon  the  delectable  harmony 
of  the  life  and  literature  of  Irving.  I  have  taken 
it  from  Tuckerman  ;  could  I  have  written  half  so 
well  I  would  have  preferred  my  own  language: 

"The  outline  of  his  works,"  says  Mr.  T.,  "should 
be  filled  by  the  reader's  imagination  with  the 
accessories  and  coloring  incident  to  so  varied, 
honorable,  and  congenial  a  life.  In  all  his  wan 
derings,  his  eye  was  busied  with  the  scenes  of 
nature,  and  cognizant  of  their  every  feature  ;  his 
memory  brooded  over  the  tradition  of  the 
past,  and  his  heart  caught  and  reflected  every 
phase  of  humanity.  With  the  feelings  of  a  poet 
and  the  habitudes  of  an  artist,  he  then  wan- 
drivd  over  the  rural  districts  of  merry  England, 
the  melancholy  hills  of  romantic  Spain,  and  the 
exuberant  wilderness  of  his  native  land,  gather 
ing  up  their  most  picturesque  aspects  and  their 
most  affecting  legends,  and  transferring  them, 
with  the  pure  and  varied  colors  of  his  genial  ex 
pression,  into  permanent  memorials." 

Posterity,  to  whom  he  may  most  safely  be 
confided,  will  neither  forget  the  man  nor  his 
writings :  these  unfold  the  treasures  of  a  com 
manding  genius,  with  the  excellencies  of  an  un 
paralleled  diction,  while  of  the  author  himself 
we  may  emphatically  affirm  that  his  literary 
products  are  a  faithful  transcript  of  his  peculiar 
mind.  He  enjoys  a  glorious  triumph  :  we  need 
not  plead  in  extenuation  of  a  line  that  he  has 
penned.  Let  us  console  ourselves  at  his  loss 
that  he  was  a  native  and  "  to  the  manor  born,'-' 
that  his  life  was  immaculate  and  without  re 
proach,  and  that  in  death  he  triumphed  over  its 

xxxvi 


terrors.  Let  it  be  our  pride  that  the  patriarch  of 
American  literature  is  indissolubly  connected,  in 
his  mighty  fame,  with  the  Father  of  his  Country. 


PROCEEDINGS  OF  THE  MASSACHUSETTS  HIS 
TORICAL  SOCIETY. 

A  SPECIAL  meeting  of  this  Society  was  held  at 
the  residence  of  its  Vice-President,  the  Hon.  Da 
vid  Sears,  Boston,  Dec.  15,  1859.  After  a  formal 
announcement  of  the  death  of  Mr.  Irving,  by  the 
President,  the  following  resolutions  were  offered 
by  Mr.  Henry  W.  Longfellow : 

MR.  LONGFELLOW'S  ADDRESS. 

Every  reader  has  his  first  book.  I  mean  to 
say,  one  book  among  all  others,  which  in  early 
youth  first  fascinates  his  imagination,  and  at 
once  excites  and  satisfies  the  desires  of  his  mind. 
To  me  this  first  book  was  the  Sketch  Book  of 
Washington  Irving.  I  was  a  school-boy  when 
it  was  published,  and  read  each  succeeding  num 
ber  with  ever-increasing  wonder  and  delight; 
spell-bound  by  its  pleasant  humor,  its  melancholy 
tenderness,  its  atmosphere  of  reverie,  nay,  even 
by  its  gray-brown  covers,  the  shaded  letters  of 
the  titles,  and  the  fair,  clear  type,  which  seemed 
an  outward  symbol  of  the  style. 

How  many  delightful  books  the  same  author 
has  given  us,  written  before  and  since — volumes 
of  history  and  fiction,  most  of  which  illustrate 
his  native  land,  and  some  of  which  illumine  it, 
and  make  the  Hudson,  I  will  not  say  as  classic, 
but  as  romantic  as  the  Rhine!  Yet  still  the 
charm  of  the  Sketch  Book  remains  unbroken  ; 
the  old  fascination  still  lingers  about  it;  and 
whenever  I  open  its  pages,  I  open  also  that  mys 
terious  door  which  leads  back  into  the  haunted 
chambers  of  youth. 

Many  years  afterwards,  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  Mr.  Irving  in  Spain,  and  found  the  au 
thor,  whom  I  had  loved,  repeated  in  the  man. 
The  same  playful  humor;  the  same  touches  of 
sentiment;  the  same  poetic  atmosphere;  and, 
what  I  admired  still  more,  the  entire  absence  of 
all  literary  jealousy,  of  all  that  mean  avarice  of 
fame,  which  counts  what  is  given  to  another  as 
so  much  taken  from  one's  self — 

"  Ami  rustling  hears  in  every  breeze, 
The  laurels  of  Miltiades." 

At  this  time  Mr.  Irving  was  at  Madrid,  en 
gaged  upon  his  Life  of  Columbus;  and  if  the 
work  itself  did  not  bear  ample  testimony  to  his 
zealous  and  conscientious  labor,  I  could  do  so 
from  personal  observation.  He  seemed  to  be 
always  at  work.  "Sit  down,"  lie  would  say; 
"I  will  talk  with  you  in  a  moment,  but  I  must 
first  finish  this  sentence." 

One  summer  morning,  passing  his  house  at 


MR.  EVERETT'S  ADDRESS. 


the  early  hour  of  six,  I  saw  his  study  window 
already  wide  open.  On  my  mentioning  it  to 
him  afterwards,  he  said :  "  Yes,  I  am  always  at 
my  work  as  early  as  six."  Since  then  I  have 
often  remembered  that  sunny  morning  and  that 
open  window,  so  suggestive  of  his  sunny  tem 
perament  and  his  open  heart,  and  equally  so  of 
his  patient  and  persistent  toil ;  and  have  recalled 
those  striking  words  of  Dante: 

"Seggendo  in  piuma, 
In  fain  a  rum  si  vien,  ne  sotto  coltre : 
Senza  la  qual  chi  sua  vita  consmna, 
Cotal  vestigio  in  terra  di  se  lascia, 
Qual  fuino  in  acre,  od  in  acqua  la  schiuuia." 

"Seated  upon  down, 
Or  in  his  bed.  man  coineth  not  to  fame, 
WUhouten  which,  whoso  his  life  consumes, 
Such  vestige  of  himself  on  earth  shall  leave, 
As  smoke  in  air,  and  in  the  water  foam." 

Remembering  these  things,  I  esteem  it  a  great 
though  a  melancholy  privilege,  to  lay  upon  his 
hearse  the  passing  tribute  of  these  resolutions: 

Resolved,  That  while  we  deeply  deplore  the 
death  of  our  friend  and  associate,  Washington 
Irving,  we  rejoice  in  the  completeness  of  his  life 
and  labors,  which,  closing  together,  have  left  be 
hind  them  so  sweet  a  fame,  and  a  memory  so 
precious. 

Resolved,  That  we  feel  a  just  pride  in  his  re 
nown  as  an  author,  not  forgetting  that,  to  his 
other  claims  upon  our  gratitude,  he  adds  also 
that  of  having  been  the  first  to  win  for  our 
country  an  honorable  name  and  position  in  the 
History  of  Letters. 

Resolved,  That  we  hold  in  affectionate  remem 
brance  the  noble  example  of  his  long  literary 
career,  extending  through  half  a  century  of  un- 
remitted  labors,  graced  with  all  the  amenities  of 
authorship,  and  marred  by  none  of  its  discords 
and  contentions. 

Resolved,  That  as  members  of  this  Historical 
Society,  we  regard  with  especial  honor  and  ad 
miration,  his  Lives  of  Columbus,  the  Discoverer, 
and  of  Washington,  the  Father  of  our  Country. 

Resolved,  That  a  copy  of  these  resolutions  be 
transmitted  to  his  family,  with  the  expression  of 
our  deepest  and  sincere  sympathy. 

MB.  EVERETT'S  ADDRESS. 

The  Hon.  Edward  Everett,  in  seconding  the 
resolutions,  said : 

I  cordially  concur  in  the  resolutions  which 
Mr.  Longfellow  has  submitted  to  the  Society. 
They  do  no  more  than  justice  to  the  merits  and 
character  of  Mr.  Irving,  as  a  man  and  as  a 
writer ;  and  it  is  to  me,  sir,  a  very  pleasing  cir 
cumstance,  that  a  tribute  like  this  to  the  Xestor 
of  the  prose  writers  of  America — so  just  and  so 
happily  expressed — should  be  paid  by  the  most 
distinguished  of  our  American  poets. 

If  the  year  1769  is  distinguished,  above  every 


other  year  of  the  last  century,  for  the  number 
of  eminent  men  to  which  it  gave  birth  ;  that  of 
1859  is  thus  far  signalized  in  this  country  for  the 
number  of  bright  names  which  it  has  taken  from 
us;  and  surely  that  of  Washington  Irving  may 
be  accounted  with  the  brightest  on  the  list. 

It  is  eminently  proper  that  we  should  take  a 
respectful  notice  of  his  decease.  He  has  stood 
for  many  years  on  the  roll  of  our  honorary  mem 
bers,  and  he  lias  enriched  the  literature  of  the 
country  with  two  first-class  historical  works, 
which  although  from  their  subjects  they  possess 
a  peculiar  attraction  for  the  people  of  the  United 
States,  are  yet,  in  general  interest,  second  to  no 
contemporary  work  in  that  department  of  litera 
ture.  I  allude,  of  course,  to  the  History  of  the 
Life  and  Voyages  of  Columbus,  and  the  Life  of 
Washington. 

Although  Mr.  Irving's  devotion  to  literature 
as  a  profession — and  a  profession  pursued  with 
almost  unequalled  success — was  caused  by  un 
toward  events,  which  in  ordinary  cases  would 
have  proved  the  ruin  of  life,  a  rare  good  fortune 
attended  his  literary  career.  Without  having 
received  a  collegiate  education,  and  destined  first 
to  the  legal  profession,  which  he  abandoned  as 
uncongenial,  he  had  in  very  early  life  given 
promise  of  attaining  a  brilliant  reputation  as  a 
writer.  Some  essays  from  his  pen  attracted 
notice  before  he  reached  his  majority.  A  few 
years  later,  the  numbers  of  the  Salmagundi,  to 
which  he  was  a  principal  contributor,  enjoyed  a 
success  throughout  the  United  States  far  beyond 
any  former  similar  work,  and  not  surpassed,  if 
equalled,  by  any  thing  which  has  since  appeared. 

This  was  followed  by  Knickerbockers  History 
of  New  York,  which  at  once  placed  Mr.  Irving 
at  the  head  of  American  humorists.  In  the  class 
of  compositions  to  which  it  belongs,  I  know  of 
nothing  happier  than  this  work,  in  our  language. 
It  has  probably  been  read  as  widely,  and  with  as 
keen  a  relish,  as  any  thing  from  Mr.  Irving's  pen. 
It  would  seem  cynical  to  subject  a  work  of  this 
kind  to  an  austere  commentary — at  least  while 
we  are  paying  a  tribute  to  its  lamented  author. 
But  I  may  be  permitted  to  observe,  that,  while 
this  kind  of  humorous  writing  fits  well  with  the 
joyous  temperament  of  youth,  in  the  first  flush 
of  successful  authorship,  and  is  managed  by  Mr. 
Irving  with  great  delicacy  and  skill,  it  is  still,  in 
my  opinion,  better  adapted  for  a  jeu  d'esprit  in  a 
magazine,  than  for  a  work  of  considerable  com 
pass.  To  travesty  an  entire  history  seems  to  me 
a  mistaken  effort  of  ingenuity,  and  not  well  ap 
plied  to  the  countrymen  of  William  of  Orange, 
Grotius,  the  De  Witts,  and  Van  Tromp. 

******* 

After  Mr.  Irving  had  been  led  to  take  up  his 
residence  abroad  and  to  adopt  literature  as  a  pro- 

xxx  vii 


ME.  EVERETT'S  ADDRESS. 


fession  and  a  livelihood — a  resource  to  which  he 
was  driven  by  the  failure  of  the  commercial  house 
of  his  relatives,  of  which  he  was  nominally  a  part 
ner — he  produced  in  rapid  succession  a  series  of 
works  which  stood  the  test  of  English  criticism, 
and  attained  a  popularity  not  surpassed — hardly 
equalled — by  that  of  any  of  his  European  contem 
poraries.  This  fact,  besides  being  attested  by  the 
critical  journals  of  the  day,  may  be  safely  inferred 
from  the  munificent  prices  paid  by  the  great  Lon 
don  bookseller,  the  elder  Murray,  for  the  copyright 
of  several  of  his  productions.  He  wrote,  among 
other  subjects,  of  English  manners,  sports,  and  tra 
ditions — national  traits  of  character — certainly  the 
most  difficult  topics  for  a  foreigner  to  treat,  and 
he  wrote  at  a  time  when  Scott  was  almost  annu 
ally  sending  forth  one  of  his  marvellous  novels; 
when  the  poetical  reputation  of  Moore,  Byron, 
Campbell,  and  Rogers  was  at  the  zenith ;  and  the 
public  appetite  was  consequently  fed  almost  to  sa 
tiety  by  these  familiar  domestic  favorites.  But 
notwithstanding  these  disadvantages  and  obstacles 
to  success,  he  rose  at  once  to  a  popularity  of  the 
most  brilliant  and  enviable  kind ;  and  this  too  in  a 
branch  of  literature  which  had  not  been  cultivat 
ed  with  distinguished  success  in  England  since  the 
time  of  Goldsmith,  and  with  the  exception  of  Gold 
smith,  not  since  the  days  of  Addison  and  Steele. 

Mr.  Irving's  manner  is  often  compared  with 
Addison's,  though,  closely  examined,  there  is  no 
great  resemblance  between  them,  except  that 
they  both  write  in  a  simple,  unaffected  style,  re 
mote  from  the  tiresome  stateliness  of  Johnson 
and  Gibbon.  It  was  one  of  the  witty,  but  rather 
ill-natured  sayings  of  Mr.  Samuel  Rogers,  whose 
epigrams  have  sometimes  done  as  much  injustice 
to  his  own  kind  and  generous  nature  as  they  did 
to  the  victims  of  his  pleasantry,  that  Washing 
ton  Irving  was  Addison  and  water;  a  judgment 
which,  if  seriously  dealt  with,  is  altogether  aside 
from  the  merits  of  the  two  writers,  who  have 
very  little  in  common.  Addison  had  received  a 
finished  classical  education  at  the  Charter  House 
and  at  Oxford,  was  eminently  a  man  of  books, 
and  had  a  decided  taste  for  literary  criticism. 
Mr.  Irving,  for  a  man  of  letters,  was  not  a  great 
reader,  and  if  he  possessed  the  critical  faculty, 
never  exercised  it.  Addison  quoted  the  Latin 
poets  freely,  and  wrote  correct  Latin  verses  him 
self.  Mr.  Irving  made  no  pretensions  to  a  famil 
iar  acquaintance  with  the  classics,  and  probably 
never  made  an  hexameter  in  his  life.  Addison 
wrote  some  smooth  English  poetry,  which  Mr. 
Irving,  I  believe,  never  attempted ;  but,  with  the 
exception  of  two  or  three  exquisite  hymns  (which 
will  last  as  long  as  the  English  language  does), 
one  brilliant  simile  of  six  lines  in  the  Campaign, 
and  one  or  two  sententious,  but  not  very  brilliant 
passages  from  Cato,  not  a  line  of  Addison's  poetry 

xxxviii 


has  been  quoted  for  a  hundred  years.  But  Mr. 
Irving's  vein  of  humor  is  not  inferior  in  playful 
raciness  to  Addison's ;  his  nicety  of  characteriza 
tion  is  quite  equal ;  his  judgment  upon  all  moral 
relations  as  sound  and  true  ;  his  human  sympa 
thies  more  comprehensive,  tenderer,  and  chaster ; 
and  his  poetical  faculty,  though  never  developed 
in  verse,  vastly  above  Addison's.  One  chord  in 
the  human  heart,  the  pathetic,  for  whose  sweet 
music  Addison  had  no  ear,  Irving  touched  with 
the  hand  of  a  master.  He  learned  that  skill  in 
the  school  of  early  disappointment. 

In  this  respect  the  writer  was  in  both  cases 
reflected  in  the  man.  Addison,  after  a  pro 
tracted  suit,  made  an  "  ambitious  match"  with  a 
termagant  peeress;  Irving,  who  would  as  soon 
have  married  Hecate  as  a  woman  like  the  Coun 
tess  of  Warwick,  buried  a  blighted  hope,  never 
to  be  rekindled,  in  the  grave  of  a  youthful 
sorrow. 

As  miscellaneous  essayists,  in  which  capacity 
only  they  can  be  compared,  Irving  exceeds  Addi 
son  in  versatility  and  range,  quite  as  much  as 
Addison  exceeds  Irving  in  the  far  less  important 
quality  of  classical  tincture;  while  as  a  great 
national  historian,  our  countryman  reaped  lau 
rels  in  a  field  which  Addison  never  entered. 
***** 

It  would  be  altogether  a  work  of  supereroga 
tion  to  engage  in  any  general  commentary  on 
the  merits  of  Mr.  Irving's  two  great  historical 
works,  and  the  occasion  is  not  appropriate  for  a 
critical  analysis  of  them.  They  have  taken  a 
recognized  place  in  the  historical  literature  of 
the  age,  and  stand,  by  all  confession,  in  the  front 
rank  of  those  works  of  history  of  which  this 
century  and  especially  this  country  has  been  so 
honorably  prolific.  Reserving  a  distinguished 
place  apart  for  the  venerable  name  of  Marshall, 
Mr.  Irving  leads  the  long  line  of  American  his 
torians — first  in  time  and  not  second  in  beauty 
of  style,  conscientious  accuracy,  and  skilful  ar 
rangement  of  materials.  As  his  two  works  treat 
respectively  of  themes,  which  for  purely  Ameri 
can  interest  stand  at  the  head  of  all  single  sub 
jects  of  historical  research,  so  there  is  no  one  of 
our  writers  to  whom  the  united  voice  of  the 
country  would  with  such  cheerful  unanimity 
have  intrusted  their  composition. 

From  the  time  that  he  entered  for  life  upon  a 
literary  career,  Mr.  Irving  gave  himself  almost 
exclusively  to  its  pursuit.  He  filled  the  office  of 
Charge  d' Affaires  for  a  short  time  in  London, 
prior  to  his  return  to  the  United  States,  and  that 
of  Minister  to  Spain  from  1842  to  1846.  His 
diplomatic  dispatches  in  that  capacity  are  among 
the  richest  of  the  treasures  which  lie  buried  in 
the  public  archives  at  Washington. 

A  more  beautiful  life  than  Mr.  Irving's  can 


MR.   SUMNER'S  LETTER. 


hardly  be  imagined.  Not  uncheckered  with  ad 
versity,  his  early  trials,  under  the  soothing  in 
fluence  of  time,  without  subduing  the  natural 
cheerfulness  of  his  disposition,  threw  over  it  a 
mellow  tenderness,  which  breathes  in  his  habit 
ual  trains  of  thought,  and  is  reflected  in  the 
amenity  of  his  style.  His  misfortunes  in  busi 
ness,  kindly  overruled  by  a  gracious  Providence, 
laid  the  foundation  of  literary  success,  reputa 
tion,  and  prosperity.  At  two  different  periods 
of  his  career  he  engaged  in  public  life ;  entering 
it  with  ambition ;  performing  its  duties  with 
diligence  and  punctuality ;  and  leaving  it  with 
out  regret.  He  was  appointed  Charge  d'Affaires 
to  London  under  General  Jackson's  administra 
tion,  and  Minister  to  Spain  under  Mr.  Taylor's, 
the  only  instances,  perhaps,  in  this  century,  in 
which  a  distinguished  executive  appointment 
has  been  made  without  a  thought  as  to  the 

Eolitical  opinions  of  the  person  appointed.  Mr. 
rving's  appointment  to  Spain  was  made  on  the 
recommendation  of  Mr.  Webster,  who  told  me 
that  he  regarded  it  as  one  of  the  most  honora 
ble  memorials  of  his  administration  of  the  de 
partment  of  State.  It  was  no  doubt  a  pleasing 
circumstance  to  Mr.  Irving,  to  return  in  his  ad 
vancing  years,  crowned  with  public  honors,  to 
the  country  where,  in  earlier  life,  he  had  pur 
sued  his  historical  studies  with  so  much  success  ; 
but  public  life  had  no  attraction  for  him.  The 
respect  and  affection  of  the  community  followed 
him  to  his  retirement;  he  lived  in  prosperity 
without  an  ill-wisher  ;  finished  the  work  which 
was  given  him  to  do,  amidst  the  blessings  of  his 
countrymen,  and  died  amidst  loving  kindred  in 
honor  and  peace.* 

Speeches  were  also  made  by  Professor  Felton, 
Doctor  O.  W.  Holmes,  Colonel  Aspinwall,  and 
others,  after  which  the  resolutions  were  unani 
mously  adopted. 

LETTER   FROM    GEORGE    SUMNER. 

The  following  letter  from  Mr.  George  Sumner 
was  read  by  Mr.  Longfellow : 

BOSTON,  December  15, 1S59. 

MY  DEAR  LONGFELLOW  :  An  imperative  en 
gagement  calls  me  in  half  an  hour  from  the  city, 
and  will  deprive  me  of  the  melancholy  satisfac 
tion  of  joining,  this  evening,  in  the  tribute  of  the 
Historical  Society  to  the  memory  of  Washington 
Irving. 

Others  will  speak  of  his  literary  fame — of  his 
style — as  graceful  and  delicate  as  that  of  Charles 
Nodier — and  of  the  chords  of  ever-sensitive  feel- 

*  The  omitted  portion  of  Mr.  Everett's  Address  is  a  recapitu 
lation  of  Mr.  Irving's  writings,  already  given  in  the  previous 
'"  Memoranda." 


ing  he  has  touched — which  cause  the  Sketch 
Boole  to  be  more  widely  read,  in  its  original 
tongue,  than  any  book  in  our  language  except 
the  Vicar  of  Walcefield.  I  would  'fain,  if  pres 
ent,  speak  of  his  genial  and  constant  friendship 
— of  his  faith  in  man — and  of  his  readiness  to 
find  good  in  every  thing. 

There  is  also  one  part  of  his  life — the  least 
familiar,  perhaps,  to  the  public — on  which  it 
seems  fitting  that  something  should  be  said — I 
mean  his  diplomatic  career  as  Minister  to  Spain. 
He  was  there  at  a  moment  of  great  political 
excitement — when  the  party  which  had  most 
strongly  toiled  for  liberty,  being  in  power, 
"  veiled  temporarily,"  to  use  the  borrowed  lan 
guage  of  one  of  its  minister's  proclamations, 
"veiled  temporarily  the  statue  of  the  law,"  and 
having  done  this,  fell. 

In  the  turmoil  that  ensued,  delicate  questions 
arose,  which  Mr.  Irving  treated  with  promptness 
and  success. 

On  one  occasion,  citizens  of  the  United  States, 
resident  as  merchants  in  Spain,  had  been  com 
pelled  to  serve  in  the  National  Guard.  Mr.  Ir 
ving's  protest  against  this  was  met  by  the  decla 
ration  that  the  property  of  these  Americans 
being  protected  by  the  National  Guard,  it  was 
their  duty  to  join  its  ranks.  In  the  correspond 
ence  that  ensued,  as  in  all  his  relations  with  the 
Spanish  government,  Mr.  Irving  showed  the 
suavity  so  congenial  to  his  nature,  and  so  pre 
sumptive  of  latent  force.  He  carried  all  his 
points,  and  gave  a  lesson  of  conduct  to  other 
diplomatists. 

In  his  career  as  a  Minister,  as  in  his  social  life, 
there  was  a  constant  recognition  of  the  rights  of 
others — and,  as  the  natural  result  of  this,  a  con 
stant  respect  on  the  part  of  others  for  his  own 
rights. 

Mr.  Irving  was,  in  the  largest  sense  of  the 
word,  a  national  man — keenly  alive  to  the  honor 
and  good  name  of  the  Republic — and  his  honest 
nature  revolted  at  any  forgetfulness  of  it  on  the 
part  of  those  whom  the  people  have  selected  as 
their  representatives.  He  was  too  hopeful  to 
give  way  to  despair,  but  he  was  moved,  even  to 
tears,  by  the  spectacle  which  our  country  pre 
sented,  not  many  years  ago,  of  a  succession  of 
expeditions  fitted  out  to  invade  the  territory  of 
a  friendly  power;  and  he  had  read  history  too 
well  not  to  see  in  these  forays  examples  which 
would  return  to  plague  their  inventors. 

His  civic  life  was  as  honorable,  and  as  true  to 
the  principles  of  the  founders  of  the  Republic,  as 
was  his  public  career  as  Minister — but  this  will 
doubtless  be  fully  treated  by  his  biographer.  It 
is  enough  for  the  present  to  say  that-,  to  those 
who  had  the  privilege  of  his  intimacy,  his  char 
acter  seemed,  in  every  respect,  complete.  We 

xxxix 


SUNNYSIDE. 


drop  a  tear  upon  the  grave  of  the  author — the 
friend — the  public  servant — the  citizen. 
Ever  faithfully  yours, 

GEORGE  SUMNER. 


SUNNYSIDE.  o 

December  1,1859. 
BY   HENRY   THEODORE   TUCKERMAN. 

THE  dear,  quaint  cottage,  as  we  pass^ 
No  clambering  rose  or  locusts  hide ; 

And  dead  leaves  fleck  the  matted  grass,-— 
And  shadow  rests  on  Sunny  side: 

Not  by  the  flying  cloud-rack  cast, 
Nor  by  the  summer  foliage  bred, 

The  life-long  shadow  which  the  Past 
Lets  fall  where  cherish'd  joys  have  fled  : 

For  he  whose  fancy  wove  a  spell 

As  lasting  as  the  scene  is  fair, 
And  made  the  mountain,  stream,  and  dell 

His  own  dream-life  forever  share  ; 

He  who  with  England's  household  grace, 
And  with  the  brave  romance  of  Spain, 

Tradition's  lore  and  Nature's  face, 
Imbued  his  visionary  brain  ; 

Mused  in  Granada's  old  arcade 

As  gush'd  the  Moorish  fount  at  noon, 

With  the  last  minstrel  thoughtful  stray'd 
To  ruin'd  shrines  beneath  the  moon  ; 

And  breathed  the  tenderness  and  wit 
Thus  garner' d,  in  expression  pure, 

As  now  his  thoughts  with  humor  flit, 
And  now  to  pathos  wisely  lure  ; 

Who  traced  with  sympathetic  hand, 
Our  peerless  chieftain's  high  career; 

Sis  life,  that  gladden' d  all  the  land, 
And  blest  a  home — is  ended  here. 

What  pensive  charms  of  nature  brood 

O'er  the  familiar  scene  to-day, 
As  if,  with  smile  and  tear  she  wooed 

Our  hearts  a  mutual  rite  to  pay ! 

The  river  that  he  loved  so  well, 
Like  a  full  heart,  is  awed  to  calm, 

The  winter  air  that  wafts  his  knell 
Is  fragrant  with  autumnal  balm. 

A  veil  of  mist  hangs  soft  and  low 
Above  the  Catskill's  wooded  range, 

While  sunbeams  on  the  slope  below 
Their  shroud  to  robes  of  glory  change. 

How  to  the  mourner's  patient  sight 
Glide  the  tall  sails  along  the  shore, 

Like  a  procession  clad  in  white 
Down  a  vast  temple's  crystal  floor. 

So  light  the  haze,  its  floating  shades, 
Like  tears  through  which  we  dimly  see, 

*  These  lines  appeared  in  the  New  York  Evening  Post,  with 
the  following  editorial  introduction  : 

"  The  beauty  of  the  day  on  which  Mr.  Irving's  funeral  took 
place,  and  the  charming  aspect  of  the  surrounding  country,  in 
the  glorious  sunshine  which  then  closed  onr  long  Indian  Sum 
mer,  have  prompted  the  ensuing  lines,  which  we  have  from  the 
pen  of  a  friend  of  the  departed  author,  himself  eminent  in  the 
world  of  letters." 
Xl 


With  incense  crown  the  Palisades, 

With  purple  wreathe  the  Tappaan  Zee. 

And  ne'er  did  more  serene  re.posu 

Of  cloud  and  sunshine,  brook  and  brae, 

Round  Sleepy  Hollow  fondly  close, 
Than  on  it's  lover's  burial  day. 


WASHINGTON  IRVING. o 
THUS  it  will  be  seen  that  the  life  of  Washing 
ton  Irving  had  been  mostly  passed  in  literary  la 
bors.  These  acquired  him  a  fame  no  less  solid 
and  extensive  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic 
than  here,  and  his  works,  which  are  numerous 
and  take  in  a  considerable  diversity  of  subjects, 
form  a  part  of  the  acknowledged  classics  of  the 
English  language.  He  wrote  with  such  a  charm 
and  grace  of  expression,  that  the  mere  fascination 
of  his  style  would  often  prove  powerful  enough  to 
keep  the  reader  intent  upon  his  pages  when  the 
subject  itself  might  not  happen  to  interest  him. 
His  humor  was  of  a  peculiar  quality,  always  deli 
cate  in  character,  and  yet  enriched  with  a  certain 
quaint  poetic  coloring,  which  added  greatly  to  its 
effect.  His  graver  writings  have  no  less  beauty, 
and  several  of  them  prove  that,  as  is  often  the 
case  with  men  who  possess  a  large  share  of  hu 
mor,  he  was  no  less  a  master  in  the  pathetic,  and 
knew  how  to  touch  the  heart.  His  Life  of  Oli 
ver  Goldsmith,  always  seemed  to  us  one  of  the 
most  delightful  works  of  biography  ever  written 
— we  doubt  whether  Goldsmith  himself,  even  if 
he  had  been  so  fortunate  in  his  subject,  could 
have  executed  his  task  so  well. 

It  was  the  happiness  of  Mr.  Irving  that  he 
retained  his  fine  powers  in  all  their  vigor  to  the 
last.  The  closing  years  of  his  life  were  occupied 
in  writing  the  Life  of  Washington,  a  subject 
worthy  to  be  committed  to  the  hands  of  one  who 
could  relate  events  so  charmingly,  and  portrav 
character  with  such  admirable  skill.  Having  ex 
ecuted  that  task  in  a  manner  to  satisfy  those 
whose  expectations  were  the  highest,  lie  regarded 
his  literary  labors  as  finished,  and  looked  forward 
calmly  to  the  end  of  life.  He  survived  the  issue 
of  his  last  volume  but  a  few  months.  His  rising 
on  the  world  of  letters  was  in  what  might  almost 
be  callexl  the  morning  of  our  literature,  and  after 
completing  his  course,  his  setting  takes  place  in 
the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  luminaries,  among  whom 
his  orb  shines  with  no  less  brightness  than  at  its 
meridian. 

Mr.  Irving  was  one  of  the  most  amiable  and 
gentle  of  men ;  a  man  of  exceeding  modesty, 
never  willing  to  set  forth  his  own  pretensions, 

*  From  an  obituary  editorial  notice  in  the  Evening  Post. 

Nov.  2l»,  1S59. 


THE  KNIGHTLY  FAMILY  OF  DEUM. 


and  leaving  to  the  public  the  care  of  his  literary 
reputation.  He  had  no  taste  for  controversy  of 
any  sort.  His  manners  were  mild,  and  his  con 
versation  in  the  society  of  those  with  whom  he 
was  intimate,  was  most  genial  and  playful. 


THE  LATE  WASHINGTON   IRVING-.0 

THE  daily  newspapers  of  New  York  have  fur 
nished  such  full  and  interesting  accounts  of  the 
death  and  bnrial  of  this  greatly  beloved  man,  as 
to  leave  little  scope  for  remark  by  us.  Never 
theless,  as  the  name  is  in  some  degree  identified 
with  the  interests  of  Staten  Island,  from  the 
residence  among  us  of  two  of  the  family,  in 
public  positions,  we  have  endeavored  to  comply 
with  the  solicitations  of  some  friends,  and  have 
gathered  a  few  additional  facts  in  relation  to  the 
departed. 

Washington  Irving  was  the  descendant  of  a 
good  family  in  the  north  of  Scotland.  The 
parent  stock  is  known  as  "  the  knightly  family 
of  Drum,"  and  is  still  settled  at  the  old  castle,  or 
"  Tower  of  Drum,"  as  it  is  there  called,  occupy 
ing  the  same  estate  granted  by  Robert  Bruce,  in 
1306,  to  Sir  William  de  Irwyn,  the  direct  ances 
tor  of  the  present  proprietor.  It  is  situated  on 
the  banks  of  the  Dee,  about  ten  miles  from 
Aberdeen,  and  being  a  curiosity  as  "the  oldest 
inhabited  house  in  Scotland,"  has  been  visited 
by  not  a  few  American  travellers. 

A  second  son  of  this  family,  after  the  manner 
of  Scottish  houses,  left  the  "paternal  roof,  and, 
under  the  patronage  of  the  crown,  settled  in  the 
Orkneys.  There  he  acquired  large  possessions 
and  influence;  his  descendants,  for  a  long  while, 
were  seated  at  Gairstay  and  Quhome,  the  names 
of  their  estates  and  dwellings.  There  they  en 
countered  the  various  vicissitudes  of  the  world, 
enjoying  prosperity  for  a  time,  and  afterwards 
adverse  fortunes  ;  and  there,  as  their  celebrated 
American  descendant  once  remarked,  "  \ve  will 
not  say  fo&y  flourished,  but  dwindled  and  dwin 
dled  and  dwindled,  until  the  last  of  them,  nearly 
a  hundred  years  since,  sought  a  new  home  in 
this  new  world  of  ours." 

The  local  laws  of  the  island — i.e.,  the  ancient 
"Tidal"  laws,  which  required  in  title  deeds  the 
statement  of  relationship  of  parties  mentioned 
therein — the  possession  of  old  parchment  deeds, 
and  the  official  records  of  the  county,  have  pre 
served  with  singular  clearness  and  accuracy  the 
line  of  our  American  author's  descent. 

William  Irving,  the  father  of  Washington, 
came  to  this  country  in  1763,  having  previously 
married  an  English  lady  by  the  name  of  Sanders, 

*  From  the  Richmond  County  Gazette,  Dee.  14, 1859. 


in  Cornwall,  England.  He  was  a  member  of  the 
established  Church  of  Scotland,  and  he  became 
afterwards  an  officer  of  the  Presbyterian  "  Brick 
Meeting,"  on  the  Park,  New  York.  He  was  a 
constant  and  devout  student  of  the  Scriptures, 
regular  in  the  habit  of  family  worship,  and 
greatly  respected  for  uprightness.  His  wife  was 
a  "  Church  of  England"  woman,  the  grand 
daughter  of  a  clergyman  of  that  Church  ;  and 
to  this  influence  may  be  ascribed  the  fuct  that 
all  of  her  children,  with  one  exception,  became 
attached  to  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in 
the  United  States.  She  was  a  woman  of  vigor 
ous  intellect,  open  and  generous  disposition,  and 
of  truly  devout  habit  and  affections. 

Washington  Irving  was  born  on  the  third,  not 
on  the  thirteenth  of  April,  as  some  of  the  papers 
have  stated,  in  the  year  1783.  When  a  child,  he 
was  not  remarkable  for  brightness,  and  his  sur 
viving  brother  has  often  told  an  anecdote  of  his 
returning  from  school  one  day,  when  about  eight 
years  of  age,  with  this  remark  to  his  mother, 
"  The  madame  says  I  am  a  dunce ;  isn't  it  a  pity ! " 
A  very  delicate  constitution,  and  prolonged  ill- 
health,  such  as  sent  him  abroad  soon  after  he  came 
of  age,  prevented  his  availing  himself  of  the  ad 
vantages  of  education  which  were  placed  before 
him,  and  he  abandoned  the  intention  of  following 
his  brother,  the  late  judge,  to  the  old  halls  of  Co 
lumbia  College.  He  was,  however,  by  no  means 
an  idler,  or  indifferent  to  the  cultivation  of  his 
mind.  His  elder  brothers,  William  and  Peter, 
were  men  of  much  literary  taste  and  cultivation, 
and  under  their  guidance  his  reading  was  direct 
ed  and  his  own  taste  formed. 

For  a  short  period  he  read  law  with  the  late 
Judge  Josiah  Ogden  Hoffman,  but  ill  health,  as 
we  have  intimated,  broke  up  this  study.  And 
here  we  may  now  mention,  that  through  this  con 
nection  grew  up  that  intimacy  between  our  be 
loved  author  and  a  daughter  of  the  late  Judge 
Hoffman,  which  was  early  terminated  by  the 
death  of  the  lady ;  an  incident  which,  from  our 
knowledge  of  Mr.  Irving's  disposition,  we  doubt 
not  had  its  influence  upon  him  all  through  his 
life.  We  cannot  but  think  that  we  lind  a  leaf 
from  his  own  experience  in  a  passage  of  his  charm 
ing  paper  on  "  Newsl  ead  Abbey,"  where  he  says : 
"An. early,  innocent,  and  unfortunate  passion, 
however  fruitful  of  pain  it  may  be  to  the  man,  is 
a  lasting  advantage  to  the  poet.  It  is  a  well  of 
sweet  and  bitter  fancies;  of  refined  and  gentle 
sentiments;  of  elevated  and  ennobling  thoughts, 
shut  up  in  the  deep  recesses  of  the  heart,  keeping 
it  green  amidst  the  withering  blights  of  the  world, 
and  by  its  casual  gushings  and  overflowings,  re 
calling  at  times  all  the  freshness,  and  innocence, 
and  enthusiasm  of  youthful  days."  It  happened, 
not  long  ago,  that  during  a  visit  to  Sunn/side, 

xli 


DR.  CREIGHTON'S  DISCOURSE. 


while  Mr.  Irving  was  absent,  our  informant  was 
quartered  in  Mr.  I.'s  own  apartment,  and  very 
deeply  it  touched  him  to  notice,  that  upon  the 
table  which  stood  by  the  bedside,  always  within 
reach,  there  was  lying  an  old  and  well-worn  copy 
of  the  Bible,  with  the  name  in  a  lady's  delicate 

hand  on  the  title  page,  "  M II ." 

More  than  half  a  century  had  passed  away,  and 
still  the  old  bachelor  of  seventy-five  drew  his 
daily  comfort  from  this  cherished  memento  of  the 
love  of  his  youth. 


MR.  IRVING' S  RELIGIOUS  CHARACTER.* 

Passages  from  a  Sermon  at  Tarrytawn,  Deo.  4,  1859. 

BY  THE  REV.  DR.  OREIGHTON. 

IN  referring  to  the  heavy  loss  which  we  have 
sustained,  and  which  will  be  deplored  by  every 
one  wherever  the  English  language  is  spoken,  I 
do  not  propose  to  dwell  on  his  literary  reputa 
tion.  World  wide  as  it  is,  his  fame  does  not 
need  any  eulogy  from  me.  Every  one  must 
know  how  greatly  he  has  advanced  the  litera 
ture  of  the  country,  and  how  deep  is  the  debt 
which  we  owe  him  in  that  behalf.  I  would 
rather  dwell  on  his  religious  and  moral  charac 
ter  ;  and,  in  regard  to  the  first,  I  thank  God  that 
I  am  permitted  to  indulge  this  one  feeling — that 
he  was  sound  in  the  faith  of  Christ  crucified. 
I  have  often  been  asked,  if  our  deceased  friend 
was  a  believer  in  the  cardinal  doctrines  of  our 
holy  Christian  faith,  and  I  have  declared  then, 
as  I  now  declare,  that  he  was.  This  opinion 
was  founded,  not  alone  on  his  ordinary  language 
in  conversation;  not  only  in  his  uninterrupted 
observance  of  the  days  and  ceremonies  connected 
with  the  Christian  institution — and  I  have  never 
heard  a  syllable  otherwise  from  him — but  upon 
a  voluntary  declaration,  for  which  there  was  no 
occasion,  except  "  that  out  of  the  fulness  of  the 
heart  the  mouth  speaketh." 

One  Sabbath  morning  he  approached  me,  and 
asked,  why  we  could  not  have  the  "  Gloria  in 
Excelsis"  sung  every  Sunday.  I  replied  that  I 
had  no  objection,  and  that  there  was  nothing 
whatever  to  prevent  it,  and  at  the  same  time  in 
quired  of  him — "  Do  you  like  it  ?"  "  Like  it ! — 
like  it!"  said  he;  "  above  all  things.  Why,  it 
contains  the  sum  and  substance  of  our  faith,  and 
I  never  hear  it  without  feeling  better,  and  with 
out  my  heart  being  lifted  up."  Now,  whoever 
will  take  the  trouble  to  look  at  this  sublime  con 
fession  of  faith  will  see  that  it  is  nothing  but  an 
adoration  of  Christ  Jesus  our  Saviour,  as  God  — 
as  "  the  Lamb  of  God,  which  taketh  away  the 


*  Reported  in  the  New  York  Herald. 


xlii 


sins  of  the  world,"  as  the  Lord  Christ,  and  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  as  equal  to  him  in  glory  and  in 
power.  Therefore,  when  we  consider  the  unob- 
trusiveness  of  the  character  of  the  deceased,  we 
can  only  say  that  when  he  thus  spake,  the  view 
which  he  expressed  was  one  of  the  forms  of 
sound  words  once  delivered  to  the  saints.  Nor 
was  he  only  sound  in  the  faith.  He  was  also 
exemplary  in  practice.  He  was  not  only  a 
hearer,  but  a  doer  of  the  Word. 

You  all  know,  how  regular  and  punctual  was 
his  attendance  in  this  church — so  regular,  in 
deed,  that  when  not  seen,  it  was  at  once  under 
stood  that  he  was  either  absent  from  home,  or 
detained  by  indisposition.  Nor  was  he  satisfied 
in  giving  his  bodily  presence  merely.  This  was 
not  all  that  he  desired.  But  the  part  which 
he  bore  in  the  responses  showed  that  he  came 
not  only  in  compliance  with  custom,  but  to 
fulfil  a  sacred  duty  in  offering  up  his  humble 
prayers  at  the  footstool  of  mercy.  And  were 
we  permitted  to  look  at  the  inward  disposition 
of  the  heart,  as  we  are  at  the  outward  manifes 
tation  of  piety,  we  would  have  seen  the  hinges 
of  the  heart  bent  down  whenever  the  lips  ut 
tered  the  voice  of  prayer.  The  deceased  was 
for  many  years  a  communicant  of  the  Church, 
receiving  on  every  stated  occasion,  with  contrite 
spirit,  the  emblems  of  the  Saviour's  body  and 
blood.  In  his  intercourse  with  his  fellow-men, 
he  was  always  the  same  kind  and  generous 
heart,  and  he  always  put  the  most  charitable 
construction  on  their  words  and  conduct.  Char 
ity  with  him  was  not  'a  duty,  but  an  instinct. 
Every  discourse  from  the  pulpit,  or  from  any 
other  place,  which  set  forth  these  things  as  the 
bond  of  peace,  was  certain  to  meet  the  approval 
of  the  deceased.  Every  measure  for  the  ameli 
oration  of  the  condition  of  the  poor  and  afflicted 
was  sure  to  meet  his  approbation.  The  relief 
of  the  poor  and  needy — the  improvement  of 
schools,  of  chapels  and  churches — were  always  of 
the  deepest  interest  and  especially  interesting  to 
him.  His  advice  and  his  experience  were  al 
ways  readily  given  whenever  required,  and  his 
contributions  from  his  purse  were  always  of  the 
most  liberal  kind.  Of  the  extent  of  his  private 
charities  no  man  shall  know  until  the  day  when 
the  Saviour  shall  declare,  u  Inasmuch  as  ye  did 
it  to  one  of  these  little  ones,  ye  did  it  unto  me." 
He  who  now  addresses  you  has  been  more  than 
twice  the  recipient  of  double  the  sum  asked  for, 
when  the  occasion  was  one  that  recommended 
itself.  In  fact,  he  was  one  of  the  few  on  whom 
positive  dependence  could  be  placed  for  a  favor 
able  answer,  whenever  the  application  was  of  a 
meritorious  character. 

•x-         ****** 

He  alluded,  in  appropriate  terms,  to  the  deep 


THE  REV.  MK.  TODD'S  DISCOURSE. 


and  affectionate  interest  of  the  deceased  in  the 
young,  and  continued : 

******* 
In  mourning,  then,  for  Washington  Irving — a 
name  revered  and  loved  wherever  and  whenever 
heard — we  sorrow  not  as  those  without  hope ;  for 
we  believe  that  as  Jesus  died  and  rose  again,  so 
also  those  who  sleep  in  Jesus  shall  God  bring 
with  Him.  We  sorrow  not  with  the  sorrow  of 
the  world,  immoderately  and  in  a  repining  spirit, 
because  we  can  say  with  the  disciples,  when  they 
could  not  prevail  on  Paul  to  remain,  u  The  Lord's 
will  be  done."  But  we  sorrow  because  we  shall 
see  his  face  no  more.  No  more  at  his  own  tire- 
side,  at  which  were  clustered  cheerfulness,  wit, 
humor,  charity,  kindness,  righteousness,  and  all 
holy  affections!  No  more  in  the  social  circle 
gathered  at  other  homes,  where  every  hand  was 
extended  to  greet  him,  and  every  heart  sprang  up 
to  give  him  the  warmest  welcome !  No  more  in 
this  holy  place,  where  his  attendance  was  as  uni 
form  as  his  demeanor  was  earnestly  devout !  No 
more  in  the  ministration  of  the  rite  of  baptism, 
which  he  always  attended  with  feelings  of  lively 
interest  and  delight!  No  more  at  our  annual 
confirmations,  his  eyes  ever  gleaming  with  the 
force  of  Christian  sympathy!  No  more  at  the 
celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  his  manner  ex 
pressive  of  Christian  humility  and  heartfelt  grat 
itude  to  God  for  the  privilege  accorded  him  thus 
to  commemorate  the  Saviour's  love !  And  if  the 
Lord  had  vouchsafed  him  another  week  of  health 
and  strength,  he  would  have  been  with  us  to-day 
to  share  in  the  solemn  eating  and  drinking  sym 
bolically  of  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ.  But 
he  has  passed,  we  humbly,  though  firmly  trust, 
from  the  communion  of  the  Church  militant  on 
earth  to  the  supper  of  the  Lamb — to  the  Church 
triumphant  in  heaven.  We  shall  see  his  face 
here  no  more,  but  his  image  is  indelibly  impress 
ed  upon  our  hearts,  and  his  lovely  character  shall 
be  cherished  so  long  as  life  shall  last,  and  honored 
so  long  as  men  have  grace  to  cherish  moral  worth 
and  the  virtuous  and  honorable  character  of  a 
holy  example. 


PASSAGE  FROM  A  DISCOURSE 

Delivered  in  the  Second  Reformed  Dutch  Church,  at 
Tarrytovvn,  Dec.  11, 1859, 

BY   THE    EEV.    JOIIX   A.    TODD.* 

I  KNOW  not  what  may  be  done  or  spoken  else 
where  in  regard  to  the  departure  out  of  this  life 
of  that  illustrious,  and  honored,  and  beloved  citi- 

*  Reported  in  the  New  York  Daily  Times. 


zen,  whom  we,  in  this  community,  were  so  proud 
to  call  our  friend  and  neighbor ;  but  whatever  it 
may  be,  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  believe  that  you, 
my  hearers,  are  willing  that  he  should  pass  away 
from  among  us,  never  more  to  return,  and  that 
his  dust  should  be  laid  down  to  mingle  with  that 
of  parents  and  dearest  kindred,  by  the  shadow 
of  that  old  Dutch  church,  which  is  the  mother 
of  us  all,  without  some  recognition  of  his  indi 
viduality — some  words  of  tender  feeling,  of  heart 
felt  sorrow — some  expressions  of  love  and  rev 
erence  for  his  memory — some  offering  of  praise 
and  thanksgiving  to  God  for  the  excellent  gifts, 
both  of  head  and  heart,  with  which  He  was 
pleased  to  endow  him — and  some  attempt  to 
gather  up,  and  to  bring  home,  for  our  nobler 
and  more  spiritual  uses,  the  solemn  lessons  of 
the  dispensation  which  took  him  from  us.  His 
is  a  name  to  be  revered  and  cherished.  Its  glory 
shines  upon  our  country's  annals.  And  now  that 
he  has  gone  from  us,  and  from  the  land  he  loved 
so  well,  he  has  bequeathed  to  us,  in  his  unblem 
ished  life,  in  his  recorded  words,  and  in  his  illus 
trious  name,  an  inheritance  worthy  to  be  highly 
prized,  to  be  sacredly  guarded.  A  country's 
glory  is  the  collected  glory  of  the  great  men 
whom  God  has  given  her — their  high  achieve 
ments,  their  noble  spirits,  their  memorable  names. 
And  it  is  right  that  they  should  have  their  monu 
ments  not  merely  in  the  mute  and  icy  marble 
that  marks  the  spot  where  their  ashes  rest,  but 
in  the  warm,  the  living,  throbbing  hearts  of  all 
her  sons. 

"  Think  not  such  names 

Are  common  sounds  ;  they  have  a  music  in  them, 

An  odorous  recollection  ;  they  are  a  part 

Of  the  old  glorious  past.     Their  country  knows 

And  loves  the  lofty  echo,  which  gives  back 

The  memory  of  the  buried  great, 

And  calls  to  valor  and  to  victory, 

To  goodness  and  to  freedom." 

Washington  Irving,  the  patriarch  of  American 
literature, — the  accomplished  scholar, — the  ad 
mirable  historian, — the  elegant  writer, — the  won 
derful  magician,  who  evoked  from  the  realms  of 
thought  the  spirit  of  romance  and  beauty,  and 
breathed  it  upon  every  hill  and  valley,  upon  every 
shady  retreat,  and  every  wandering  brook  that 
hastens  on  to  join  this  noble  river  that  pours  its 
majestic  volume  into  the  sea ;  ay,  and  upon  the 
very  air  that  fans  the  summer  verdure,  or 
whistles  through  the  branches  of  the  wintry 
wood  around  us; — the  pure  patriot, — the  diplo 
matist,  watchful  for  his  country's  honor,  and  yet 
skilful  in  the  arts  of  preserving  peace, — the  kind 
and  beloved  neighbor, — the  faithful  friend,  and, 
what  is  better  than  all,  because  it  constituted 
him  the  "highest  style  of  man,"  the  modest  and 
benevolent  Christian,  the  sincere  believer  and 
disciple  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Washington 
Irving  is  dead !  Dead,  did  I  say  ?  No  !  He  has 

xliii 


DE.  CIIAPIN'S  REMARKS. 


just  begun  to  live.  His  spirit  has  gone  up  to  the 
enjoyment  of  a  higher  sphere,  and  its  power  upon 
the  kindred  spirit  of  his  race  has  been  consecra 
ted  by  the  solemn  mystery  of  its  departure. 
God  has  given  to  him  the  precious  boon  of  a 
twofold  life — the  life  eternal  of  the  glorified  in 
heaven,  and  the  life  of  an  undying  memory  in  the 
hearts  of  men.  And  can  we  sa\T  of  such  a  one, 
that  lie  is  dead?  True,  lie  has  gone  from  us,  and 
on  earth  \ve  shall  see  his  face  no  more. 

"  But  strew  his  ashes  to  the  wind, 
"Whoso  sword  or  voice  has  served  mankind — 
And  is  he  dead  whose  ulorious  mind 

Lifts  thine  on  high  ? 
To  live  in  hearts  we  leave  behind 

Is  not  to  die." 

We  have  lost  his  welcome  presence,  and  it  is 
for  that  we  mourn.  But  his  grave  is  with  us,  and 
here  it  will  remain  for  generations  to  come,  the 
shrine  of  unnumbered  pilgrim  feet.  From  the 
lofty  eminence  upon  which  he  stood,  conspicuous 
to  the  eyes  of  the  world,  from  his  position  of 
intellectual  greatness  and  spotless  dignity,  he  has 
passed  away.  The  sepulchre  has  claimed  all  of 
him  that  was  mortal  for  its  own.  His  eye  is 
quenched  ;  his  arm  is  palsied  ;  the  tongue  that 
was  ever  eloquent  with  the  words  of  kindness  is 
hushed  to  the  ears  of  living  men  forever;  the 
pen  that  distilled  upon  the  written  page  the  sub 
tle  creations  of  his  brain,  the  ideal  forms  all  fresh 
and  fair  from  the  realms  of  intellectual  beauty, 
in  which  his  spirit  loved  to  linger,  lies  where  he 
left  it,  dead  and  silent,  like  the  clay  from  which 
the  living  soul  has  departed.  And  on  this 
Sabbath  morning  while  we  are  gathered  in  the 
house  of  God,  his  honored  remains  are  sleeping 
by  the  side  of  her  whom  he  called  by  the  holy 
name  of  "  Mother,"  who  loved  him  while  living, 
and  whose  memory  he  loved  when  dying,  in  the 
grave  which  he  had  appointed  for  his  last  repose. 
There — there  may  they  sleep  in  peace  until  these 
Leavens  be  no  more,  and  in  the  last  day  be 
raised  again  to  the  glorious  resurrection  of  the 
just. 


PASSAGE  FROM  A  DISCOURSE,* 

New  York,  Dec.  4, 1859, 
BY   THE   REV.    DR.    E.    H.    CHAPIN. 

I  LOOKED  out  the  other  day,  and  saw  the  flags 
floating  half-mast  in  honor  of  one  who  has  just 
departed  from  us.  He  ha,s  had  comparatively 
little  to  do  with  commerce^  or  with  national  af 
fairs.  There  was  nothing  in.  his  career  to  awa 
ken  political  sympathies,  or  stir  the  pulse  of 
popular  agitation.  And  yet  there  were  these 
tokens  of  general  respect  floating  in  an  atmos- 
*  From  the  author's  manuscript. 

xliv 


phere  as  calm  and  beautiful  as  his  own  spirit. 
And  now  do  we  ask,  what  is  the  reason  why  .-in 
entire  people  has  thus  paid  its  tribute  to  the 
memory  of  one  who  lived  so  quietly,  so  serenely  ? 
I  reply,  that  here,  too,  popular  sympathy  is  vin 
dicated  in  its  instincts.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  a 
great  thing  to  live  such  a  calm  life  as  he  did,  the 
beautiful  and  the  good  blossoming  in  his  man 
hood,  and  ripening  in  his  age.  And  in  the  next 
place,  it  is  a  great  thing  to  elevate  the  intellec 
tual  life  of  a  people,  to  lift  it  above  political  dis 
cords,  and  mercenary  callings,  and  give  it  a 
higher  and  purer  air.  lie  who  does  this,  honors 
his  country,  and  deserves  to  be  honored  by  it. 
But  this  has  been  not  merely  an  expression  of 
general  sentiment,  but  of  individual  gratitude 
and  regard.  For  how  many  of  us,  now  in 
middle  life,  find  that  some  of  our  richest  and  ten- 
derest  intellectual  memories  have  been  wrought 
by  him  who  has  just  ceased  from  his  labors? 
Who  of  us  can  forget  the  fortitude  of  u  the 
wife,"  the  pathos  of  u  the  widow's  son,"  and 
the  associations  of  genial  humanity  and  do 
mestic  beauty  which  lie  has  linked  with  our 
common  world  of  trial  and  of  change?  Yes,  he 
deserves  our  sympathy,  he  deserves  our  honor, 
who  thus  elevates  the  literature  of  a  people ; 
who  has  never  written  a  line  that  he  might  have 
wished  to  blot,  and  has  left  a  u  sunny  side"  for 
many  a  heart  and  many  a  life. 


POSTHUMOUS  INFLUENCE  * 

From  a  Sermon  preached  in  SL  Thomas'  Church,  Dec.  11, 1859. 
BY   THE   REV.    DR.    WILLIAM   F.   MORGAN. 

THERE  is  still  another  and  most  impressive 
thought  suggested  by  this  Scriptural  assertion, 
that  the  Dead  speak.  I  refer  to  the  after-life  and 
effect  of  gifts  and  endowments — to  that  surviving 
power,  by  which  men  not  only  outwit  death,  but 
hold  the  living  world  as  a  whispering  gallery  for 
the  conceptions  of  their  brain  and  the  sentiments 
of  their  heart. 

As  I  have  said,  every  man  who  dies  will  retain 
an  audience  upon  earth.  The  carved  obelisk  and 
monumental  shaft  may  speak  in  louder  tones  to 
larger  circles ;  but  the  unmarked  resting-place  of 
the  beggar  shall  pour  forth  an  oratory  for  some 
ear,  and  wield  an  influence  over  some  heart,  as 
effectual  as  kingly  dust  enshrined. 

No  one  is  so  wretchedly  forlorn — no  one  so 
miserably  debased,  but  that  some  soul  is  linked 
on  to  his  by  fellowship  in  life,  by  memories  in 
death.  Nevertheless,  beyond  all  the  narrower 
limits  of  immediate  or  local  impression — beyond 
social  or  domestic  influence — there  are  posthu 
mous  voices  which  spread  and  reverberate,  till  they 
*  From  the  author's  manuscript 


DR.  MORGAN'S  DISCOURSE. 


fill  the  "compass  of  the  round  world."  There 
is  no  sj)ot,  however  distant  from  his  grave,  wliere 
the  morbid  and  misdirected  energies  of  genius 
may  not  carry  on  a  work  of  moral  devastation, 
the  extent  of  which  shall  mock  every  estimate  or 
record  except  that  of  the  Book  of  God's  remem 
brance.  There  is  no  clime  or  tribe  which  may 
not  be  visited  by  the  pestilential  forms  of  licen 
tiousness,  of  atheism,  of  monstrous,  though  guile 
ful  immorality,  even  while  the  men  who  gave 
sculptured  shape  and  fascination  to  those  forms 
are  dead  and  incorporate  with  the  sluggish  clod. 

The  art  of  printing  lends  omnipotence  to  the 
great  departed.  It  invests  their  thoughts,  their 
creeds,  their  principles,  their  imaginations,  with 
a  vitality  which  endures  and  pulsates  upon  every 
shore.  Jt  enables  the  good  to  achieve  a  desira 
ble  and  most  benignant  immortality  upon  earth  ; 
it  enables  the  bad  to  damn  themselves  to  everlast 
ing  infamy — to  speak,  from  generation  to  genera 
tion,  in  the  dialect  of  devils.  It  may  bear  a 
Jeremy  Taylor  down  to  posterity,  or,  it  may 
bear  a  Thomas  Paine;  the  one  in  all  the  fra 
grance  and  beauty  of  his  saintly  spirit,  and  the 
other  in  all  the  hideousness  of  his  blasphemous 
and  God-defying  character. 

Living  or  dying,  a  great  man,*  if  also  good,  hal 
lows  his  country,  and  elevates  all  who  live  in  his 
time :  yea,  and  all  who  shall  live  in  the  times  to 
come.  It  was  the  consciousness  of  this  which 
stirred  us  all  so  deeply  when  we  lately  heard  that 
he  was  dead,  whose  name  and  influence  are  im 
perishable.  While  he  lived,  we  felt  a  natural 
pride  and  possession  in  all  that  belonged  to  him ; 
his  person,  his  health,  his  habits,  his  home.  We 
knew  that  his  sun  was  descending  in  the  west, 
and  we  watched  its  decline.  WTe  knew  that  it 
must  sink,  and  be  no  more  seen,  and  we  looked 
for  the  hour.  And,  when  all  was  over — when 
life  was  gone,  and  the  seal  was  set,  and  the  day 
of  burial  had  come,  the  cloud  of  sorrow  had  a 
silver  lining.  Never  was  there  a  more  honest 
funeral.  I  stood  near  and  saw  the  almost  inter 
minable  procession  pass  by  the  open  coffin-lid. 
The  expression  on  every  face  was  chastened  pride, 
not  grief.  Each  sidelong  glance  at  the  placid 
visage  whispered  "  Well  done ;  all  now  is  safe  ; 
what  he  was,  he  shall  be,  amongst  the  posterities 
forever."  Washington  Irving  reached  the  last 
goal,  in  faith  and  in  deportment,  a  model  of  sim 
plicity  and  sweet  Christian  benignity.  Greatly 
gifted,  a  master  in  his  realm,  he  had  pre-emi 
nently  the  grace  of  goodness ;  and  the  arorna  of 
this  grace  freshly  ascends  from  all  his  works.  He 
pursued  a  steady  course  for  scores  of  years  with 
out  one  concession  to  the  spirit  of  a  doubting 
age — without  one  uttered  or  written  word  in 
support  of  any  wrong;  and  what  was  said  of  an 
other  eminent  man,  might  with  greater  force  be 


said  of  him  :  "  He  thought  the  noblest  occupation 
of  a  man  was  to  make  other  men  happy  ;  and  to 
this  end  he  lived,  without  one  side-look,  one 
yielding  thought,  one  motive  in  his  heart,  which 
he  might  not  have  laid  open  to  the  view  of  God 
or  man."*  We  knew  before  his  death,  and  we 
know  it  now,  that  his  writings  contain  not  a  sol 
itary  line  that  could  leave  the  faintest  stain  upon 
the  purity  of  youth,  or  the  innocence  of  woman. 
And  I  make  especial  note  of  this,  because,  to  some 
extent,  he  occupied  a  field  of  intellectual  effort, 
which  is  liable,  and  in  our  day  subject,  to  the 
most  awful  perversion  and  abuse — the  field  of  the 
imagination. 

It  is  undeniably  true,  that  most  who  subsidize 
their  gifts  or  acquisitions  to  corrupt  mankind,  ad 
dress  themselves  at  once  to  this  faculty,  and  ap 
proach  their  easy  and  innumerable  victims,  "  to 
the  beat  of  Dorian  measures,"  or  with 

"The  soft,  lascivious  pleasings  of  the  lute." 
They  tread  and  creep  upon  velvet  carpets. 
They  begin  witli  a  licentious  or  misleading  hinr, 
and  end  with  a  loud  and  reverberating,  Amen. 
They  steal  towards  the  soul  and  climb  over  its  in- 
closures,  and  beguile  it,  as  the  serpent  beguiled 
Eve,  with  flattering  words.  They  come  when  it 
is  most  tender  and  impressible.  They  put  on  the 
imperial  robe  of  the  poetry  that  charms,  or  the 
legendary  romance  that  fascinates  even  to  the 
morning  watch :  they  soar,  that  they  may  sink, 
and  drag  down  in  their  descent  millions  who  might 
have  reached  the  gate  of  heaven.  I  need  not 
tell  yon  that  these  painters  of  unreal  life — these 
rovers  through  a  false,  and  deceitful  world,  have 
no  higher  purpose  than  to  weave  into  all  they 
delineate  or  describe,  the  debasement  of  their  own 
hearts — the  skepticism  of  their  own  intellects, — 
the  utter  desolation  of  their  own  hopes  and  pros 
pects.  Gifted,  but  guilty  minds, 

"  — "Whose  poison'd  song 
Would  blend  the  bounds  of  right  and  wrong 
And  hold  with  sweet,  but  cursed  art 
Their  incantations  o'er  the  heart 
Till  every  pulse  of  pure  desire 
Throbs  with  the  glow  of  passion's  fire." 

The  modern  press  is  forevermore  in  birth  with 
such  productions ;  they  swarm  the  earth  and 
sweep  around  us  and  our  families  like  the  plague 
of  serpents  or  of  locusts.  If  pernicious  views  of 
life  are  formed,  if  the  passions  are  inflamed,  if  the 
thoughts  and  proclivities  of  the  better  nature,  are 

i  alienated  from  all  that  is  pure  and  lovely  and  of 
good  report — it  is  because  the  appeal  of  our 

'  literature  is  so  continually  made,  not  to  reason, 
not  to  conscience,  but  to  the  imagination  ; 
made  with  a  charmed  pen  dipped  in  a  licentious 
heart  or  a  stimulated  brain.  And  yet,  the  men 

*  The  Rev.  Sydney  Smith  on  the  death  of  Mr.  Grattan.— 
Edinburgh  Review. 

xlv 


GOLDSMITH  AND  IRVING. 


who  make  these  appeals,  ask  to  be  indulged — ask 
that  the  fertility  of  their  genius  or  their  wit,  should 
compensate  for  the  barrenness  of  their  morals — 
ask  that  the  light  which  leads  astray,  should  be 
counted  light  from  Heaven. 

But  no  such  indulgence  did  he  crave,  who,  being 
dead,  now  speaketh  from  his  peaceful,  woodland 
grave.  As  I  have  said,  his  aim  was  to  make 
mankind  happier  and  better,  and  only  to  write 
what  was  fitting  and  ennobling  to  be  read.  It 
lay  within  his  power  to  invest  the  land  of  dreams 
with  shape  and  substance,  to  create  scenes  of 
unearthly  beauty,  to  collect  and  blend  the  charms 
of  nature,  to  group  the  varying  characters  of  a 
people  or  an  era,  to  tell  the  pathetic  story  of 
human  sorrow  or  remorse,  or  to  sketch  the  fading 
lineaments  of  old  times  or  traditions  ;  but  his 
pen  was  always  the  obedient  servant  of  sound 
principles  and  pure  religion,  always  made  the 
soul  pant  for  something  higher,  and  never  left 
a  mark  which  an  angel  might  wish  to  blot.  And 
when,  at  length,  in  his  ripe  old  age,  he  sought  to 
lay  the  cap-stone  upon  the  pyramid  of  his  labor 
and  his  fame,  he  took  the  highest  and  purest 
character  our  earth  affords — not  merely  to  mag 
nify  or  embellish  it,  but  to  hold  it  forth  before 
the  whole  world  in  its  grand  proportions  and 
almost  faultless  beauty,  anxious — anxious,  that 
the  latest  impression  of  his  pen  should  be  the 
most  exalted,  and  the  most  enduring. 

Such  was  the  lesson  of  his  life — such  will  ~be 
its  lesson  "  to  the  last  syllable  of  recorded  time." 


GOLDSMITH  AND  IRVING. » 

BY   GEORGE   WASHINGTON   GREENE. 

WE  have  always  fancied  that  there  was  a 
strong  resemblance  between  Goldsmith  and 
Irving.  They  both  look  at  human  nature  from 
the  same  generous  point  of  view,  with  the  same 
kindly  sympathies  and  the  same  tolerant  philos 
ophy.  They  have  the  same  quick  perception  of 
the  ludicrous,  and  the  same  tender  simplicity  in 
the  pathetic.  There  is  the  same  quiet  vein  of 
humor  in  both,  and  the  same  cheerful  spirit  of 
hopefulness.  You  are  at  a  loss  to  conceive  how 
either  of  them  can  ever  have  had  an  enemy ;  and 
as  for  jealousy  and  malice,  and  all  that  brood  of 
evil  passions  which  beset  the  path  of  fame  so 
thickly,  you  feel  that  there  can  be  no  resting- 
place  for  them  in  bosoms  like  theirs.  Yet  each 
preserves  his  individuality  as  distinctly  as  if 
there  were  no  points  of  resemblance  between 
them.  Irving's  style  is  as  much  his  own  as 
though  Goldsmith  had  never  written,  and  his 

*  From  a  volume  entitled  Biographical  Studies. 
xlvi 


pictures  have  that  freshness  about  them  which 
nothing  but  life-studies  can  give.  lie  has  writ 
ten  no  poem,  no  Traveller,  'no  Deserted  Village, 
no  exquisite  ballad  like  The  Hermit,  no  touching 
little  stanzas  of  unapproachable  pathos,  like  Wom 
an.  But  how  much  real  poetry  and  how  much 
real  pathos  has  he  not  written !  We  do  not  be 
lieve  that  there  was  ever  such  a  description  of 
the  song  of  a  bird,  as  his  description  of  the  soar 
ing  of  a  lark  in  Buckthorn ;  and  the  poor  old 
widow  in  the  Sketch  Book,  who,  the  first  Sunday 
after  her  son's  burial,  comes  to  church  with  a 
few  bits  of  black  silk  and  ribbon  about  her,  the 
only  external  emblem  of  mourning  which  her 
poverty  allowed  her  to  make,  is  a  picture  that 
we  can  never  look  at  through  his  simple  and 
graphic  periods  without  sobbing  like  a  child, 
roet  he  is,  and  that  too  of  the  best  and  noblest 
kind,  for  he  stores  our  memories  with  lovely 
images  and  our  hearts  with  human  affections. 
If  you  would  learn  to  be  kinder  and  truer,  if  you 
would  learn  to  bear  life's  burden  manfully,  and 
make  for  yourself  sunshine  where  half  your 
fellow-men  see  nothing  but  shadows  and  gloom, 
read  and  meditate  Goldsmith  and  Irving.  And 
if  you  too  are  an  author,  at  the  first  gentle  ac 
clivity  or  far  upward  on  the  heights  of  fame, 
learn  to  turn  backward  to  your  teacher  with 
the  same  generous  and  fervent  gratitude  with 
which  Irving  at  the  close  of  his  preface  addresses 
himself  to  Goldsmith  in  the  noble  language  of 
Dante : 

Tu  se'  lo  mio  maeslro,  e  '1  mio  nutore ; 
Tu  se'  solo  colui  da  ciii  io  tolsi 
Lo  bello  stile  che  in'  ha  fatto  onore. 

Thou  art  my  master,  and  my  teacher  thou ; 

It  was  from  thee,  and  thee  alone,  I  took 

That  noble  style  for  which  men  honor  ine. 


IRVING  DESCRIBED  IN  VERSE. 

[From  the  Fable  for  the  Critics.'} 
BY    JAMES    RUSSELL    LOWELL. 

WHAT  !  IRVING  ?  thrice  welcome,  warm  heart  and  fine 

brain ; 

You  bring  back  the  happiest  spirit  from  Spain, 
And  the  gravest  sweet  humor,  that  ever  were  there 
Since  Cervantes  met  death  in  his  gentle  despair. 
Nay,  don't  be  embarrass' d,  nor  look  so  beseeching, — 
I  shan't  run  directly  against  my  own  preaching, 
And,  having  just  laugh' d  at  their  Kaphaels  and  Dantes, 
Go  to  setting  you  up  beside  matchless  Cervantes ; 
But  allow  me  to  speak  what  I  honestly  feel, — 
To  a  true  poet-heart  add  the  fun  of  Dick  Steele, 
Throw  in  all  of  Addison,  minus  the  chill, 
With  the  whole  of  that  partnership's  stock  and  good 
will, 

Mix  well,  and,  while  stirring,  hum  o'er,  as  a  spell, 
The  fine  old  English  Gentleman  ;  simmer  it  well, 
Sweeten  just  to  your  own  private  liking,  then  strain, 
That  only  the  finest  and  clearest  remain  ; 


MR.  WILLIS'  VISITS. 


Let  it  stand  out  of  doors  till  a  soul  it  receives 

From  the  warm,  lazy  sun  loitering  down  through  green 

leaves, 

And  you'll  lind  a  choice  nature,  not  wholly  deserving 
A  name  either  English  or  Yankee— just  IRVING. 


VISITS  TO  SUNNYSIDE. 

BY   N.    P.    WILLIS.* 

Sunny  side  in  the  Summer  0/1857. 

OUR  conversation,  for  the  half  hour  that  we  sat 
in  that  little  library,  turned  first  upon  the  habits 
of  literary  labor.  Mr.  Irving,  in  reply  to  my  in 
quiry  (whether,  like  Rip  Van  Winkle,  he  had 
u  arrived  at  that  happy  age  when  a  man  can  be 
idle  with  impunity"),  said,  "  no" — that  he  had 
sometimes  worked  even  fourteen  hours  a  day,  but 
that  he  usually  sits  in  his  study,  occupied,  from 
breakfast  till  dinner  (both  of  us  agreeing,  that, 
in  literary  vegetation  the  "  do"  is  on  in  the 
morning)  ;  and  that  he  should  be  sorry  to  have 
much  more  leisure.  He  thought,  indeed,  that  he 
should  "  die  in  harness."  He  never  had  a  head 
ache — that  is,  his  workshop  never  gave  him  any 
trouble — but  among  the  changes  which  time  has 
wrought,  one,  he  says,  is  very  decided ;  the  de 
sire  for  travel  is  dead  within  him.  The  days  are 
past  when  he  could  sleep  or  eat  anywhere  with 
equal  pleasure ;  and  he  goes  to  town  as  seldom 
as  possible. 

Motley's  Dutch  Republic  lay  open  on  the 
table,  and  Irving  said  he  had  been  employing  a 
little  vacation  from  his  own  labors  in  the  reading 
of  it.  It  had  interested  him  exceedingly.  "How 
surprising"  (he  exclaimed,  quite  energetically), 
"  that  so  young  a  man  should  jump  at  once,  full- 
grown,  to  fame,  with  a  big  book,  so  well-studied 
and  complete!"  This  turned  the  conversation 
upon  the  experiences  of  authorship,  and  he  said 
that  he  was  always  afraid  to  open  the  first  copy 
that  reached  him,  of  a  new  book  of  his  own.  He 
sat  and  trembled ,  and  remembered  all  the  weak 
points  where  he  had  been  embarrassed  and  per 
plexed,  and  where  he  felt  he  might  have  done 
better — hating  to  think  of  the  book,  indeed,  until 
the  reviewers  had  praised  it.  Indifference  to 
praise  or  censure,  he  thought,  was  not  reasonable 
or  natural.  At  least,  it  was  impossible  to  him. 
He  remembered  how  he  had  suffered  from  the 
opinion  of  a  Philadelphia  critic,  who,  in  review 
ing  the  Sketch  Book,  at  its  first  appearance,  said 
that  "Rip  Van  Winkle"  was  a  silly  attempt  at 
humor,  quite  unworthy  of  the  author's  genius. 

My  mention  of  Rogers,  the  poet,  and  some  other 
friends  of  Mr.  Irving's  who  had  asked  me  about 

*  Published  in  The  Home  Journal. 


lim  in  England,  opened  a  vein  of  his  London 
•ecollections.  He  was  never  more  astonished, 
ie  said,  than  at  the  success  of  the  Sketch  Book. 
ilis  writing  of  those  stories  was  so  unlike  an  in 
spiration — so  entirely  without  any  feeling  of  con- 
idence  which  could  be  prophetic  of  their  popti- 
arity.  Walking  with  his  brother,  one  dull  foggy 
Sunday,  over  Westminster  Bridge,  he  got  to  tell- 
ng  the  old  Dutch  stories  which  he  had  heard  at 
Tarrytown,  in  his  youth — when  the  thought  sud 
denly  struck  him  : — "  I  have  it !  I'll  go  home 
and  make  memoranda  of  these  for  a  book !" 
And,  leaving  his  brother  to  go  to  church,  he 
went  back  to  his  lodgings  and  jotted  down  all 
the  data;  and,  the  next  day — the  dullest  and 
darkest  of  London  fogs — he  sat  in  his  little  room 
and  wrote  out  "  Sleepy  Hollow"  by  the  light  of 
a  candle. 

I  alluded  to  the  story  I  had  heard  told  at  Lady 
Blessington's — of  Irving  going  to  sleep  at  a  din- 
ler-party,  and  their  taking  him  up  softly  and 
carrying  him  into  another  house,  where  he  waked 
up  amid  a  large  evening-party — but  he  shook  his 
lead  incredulously.  It  was  Disraeli's  story,  he 
said,  and  was  told  of  a  party  at  Lady  Jersey's, 
to  which  he  certainly  went,  after  a  dinner-party 
— but  not  with  the  dramatic  nap  at  the  table,  nor 
the  waking  up  in  her  Ladyship's  drawing-room, 
as  described.  In  fact,  he  remembered  the  party 
as  such  a  "jam,"  that  he  did  not  get,  that  even 
ing,  beyond  the  first  landing  of  the  staircase. 

A  Drive  through  Sleepy  Hollow. 

We  wound  out  from  the  smooth-gravelled  and 
ircling  avenues  of  "  Wolfert's-dell,"  and  took  to 
the  rougher  turnpike  leading  to  Tarrytown — fol 
lowing  it,  however,  only  for  a  mile  or  so,  and 
then  turning  abruptly  off  to  the  right,  at  what 
seemed  a  neglected  by-road  to  the  hills.  Of  the 
irregular  semicircle  of  Sleepy  Hollow,  this  is  the 
Sunnyside  end — the  other  opening  towards  Tarry- 
town,  which  lies  three  miles  farther  up  the  river. 
Our  road,  presently,  grew  very  much  like  what 
in  England  is  called  ua  green  lane,"  the  undis 
turbed  grass  growing  to  the  very  edge  of  the 
single  wheel-track;  and  this  lovely  carpeting, 
which  I  observed  all  through  Sleepy  Hollow,  is, 
you  know,  an  unusual  feature  for  our  country — 
the  "  Spring-work"  on  the  highways,  ordinarily 
(under  the  direction  of  the  "  pathmaster"),  con 
sisting  mainly  in  ploughing  up  the  roadsides  and 
matting  up  the  ruts  with  the#ss-ASS-inated  green 
sward.  For  the  example  of  this  charming  differ 
ence  I  am  ready  to  bless  the  bewitchment  of  the 
"  high  German  doctor,"  or  even  to  thank  the 
ghost  of  the  "  old  Indian  chief  who  held  his  pow 
wows  there  before  the  country  was  discovered." 
With  what  attention  I  could  take  off  from  Mr. 

xlvii 


A  DKIVE  THROUGH  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


Irving's  conversation  and  his  busy  pointings-out 
of  the  localities  and  beauties  ofihe  valley,  I  was, 
of  course,  on  the  look-ont  for  the  "Sleepy-Hol 
low  Boys,"  along  the  road ;  but  oddly  enough  I 
did  not  see  a  living  soul  in  the  entire  distance ! 
For  the  "Headless  Horseman,"  it  was,  doubt 
less,  too  early  in  the  afternoon.  We  had,  neither 
of  us,  any  expectation  of  being  honored  with  an 
introduction  to  him.  But  I  did  hope  for  a  look 
at  a  "Hans  Van  Ripper"  or  a  "Katrina  Van 
Tassel" — certainly,  at  the  very  least,  for  a  speci 
men  or  two  of  the  young  Mynheers,  "  in  their 
square-skirted  coats  with  stupendous  brass  but 
tons,"  and  their  "hair  queued  up  in  an  eel-skin." 
Mr.  Irving  pointed  out  an  old  tumble-down  farm 
house,  still  occupied,  he  said,  by  the  Dutch  family 
who  traditionally  "keep  the  keys  to  Sleepy  Hol 
low,"  but  there  was  not  a  soul  to  be  seen  hang 
ing  over  the  gate,  or  stirring  around  porch  or 
cow-yard.  There  were  several  other  and  newer 
houses,  though  still  of  the  same  model — (or,  to 
quote  exactly  Mr.  Irving's  words,  in  reply  to  my 
remark  upon  it,  "always  built  crouching  low, 
and  always  overlooking  a  little  fat  meadow") — 
but  they  were  equally  without  sign  of  living  in 
habitant.  Yet  read  again  what  Mr.  Irving  says 
of  the  vegetating  eternity  of  the  inhabitant^  in 
his  own  account  of  Sleepy  Hollow,  and  see  how 
reasonable  were  my  disappointed  expectations  in 
this  particular. 

One  thing  impressed  me  very  strongly — the 
evidence  there  was,  in  Mr.  Irving's  manner,  from 
our  first  entrance  into  Sleepy  Hollow,  that  the 
charm  of  the  locality  was  to  him  no  fiction. 
There  was  even  a  boyish  eagerness  in  his  delight 
at  looking  around  him,  and  naming,  as  we  drove 
along,  the  localities  and  their  associations.  He 
did  not  seem  to  remember  that  he  had  written 
about  it,  but  enjoyed  it  all  as  a  scene  of  childhood 
then  for  the  first  time  revisited.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  sudden  earnestness  with  which  he 
leaned  forward,  as  we  passed  close  under  a  side- 
hill  heavily  wooded^  and  exclaimed,  "  There  are 
the  trees  where  I  shot  my  first  squirrels  when  a 
boy  !"  And,  till  the  turn  of  the  road  put  that 
hillside  out  of  sight,  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed,  with 
absorbed  earnestness  upon  it,  evidently  forgetful 
of  all  around  him  but  the  past  rambles  and  boy- 
dreams  which  the  scene  had  vividly  recalled. 
You  will  understand,  dear  Morris,  how  this  little 
point  was  wonderfully  charming  to  me— being 
such  a  literal  verification,  as  it  were,  of  one  of 
the  passages  of  his  description  of  the  spot,  and 
one  of  those,  too,  of  which  the  music  lingers  long 
est  in  the  ear  !  "  I  recollect"  (he  says)  "  that 
when  a  stripling,  my  first  exploit  in  squirrel-shoot 
ing  was  in  a  grove  of  tall  walnut-trees  that  shades 
one  side  of  the  valley.  I  had  wandered  into  it  at 
noon-time,  when  all  Nature  is  peculiarly  quiet, 

xlviii 


and  was  startled  by  the  roar  of  my  own  gun,  as 
it  broke  the  Sabbath  stillness  around,  and  was 
prolonged  and  reverberated  by  the  angry  echoes. 
If  ever  I  should  wish  for  a  retreat  whither  I 
might  steal  from  the  world  and  its  distractions, 
and  dream  quietly  away  the  remnant  of  a 
troubled  life,  I  know  -of  none  more  promising 
than  this  little  valley."  And,  to  drive  through 
"  this  little  valley"  with  the  man  who  had  so 
written  of  it,  and  have  him  point  out  "  the  tall 
walnut-trees"  with  such  an  outburst  of  boyish 
recollection — why,  it  was  like  entering  with 
Thomson,  under  the  very  portcullis  of  the  "  Cas 
tle  of  Indolence !" 

I  should  mention,  by  the  way,  that  we  pulled 
up,  for  a  moment,  opposite  the  monument  of 
Major  Andre,  a  marble  shaft  standing  at  the  side 
of  the  road  and  designating  the  spot  (mentioned 
in  "  Sleepy  Hollow")  where  that  unfortunate  man 
was  captured.  I  could  not  read  the  whole  in 
scription  in  the  single  minute  that  our  impatient 
horses  stood  before  it,  but  the  concluding  sen 
tence,  in  larger  letters,  stood  out  boldly — "His 
tory  tells  the  rest" — and  it  was  thrilling  to  read 
that  reference  to  a  more  enduring  record  than 
marble,  and  turn  one's  eyes  upon  the  hand  by 
which  the  imperishable  words  had  been  just 
written ! 

A  Later   Visit  in  1859. 

During  the  ten  minutes  before  Mr.  Irving  came 
in  (for  he  was  out  upon  his  morning  drive  when 
we  arrived),  his  nieces  very  kindly  gratified  our 
interest  in  the  "workshop  of  genius"  by  taking 
us  into  the  library — the  little  curtain-windowed 
sanctuary  where  his  mind  had  found  both  its 
labor  and  its  repose,  though,  by  the  open  news 
papers  scattered  carelessly  over  the  large  writing- 
table  in  the  centre,  and  the  inviting  readiness  of 
the  well-cushioned  lounge  in  the  recess,  it  now 
serves  more  the  purpose  of  the  repose  more 
needed.  It  was  a  labyrinth  of  books  ;  as  it  was 
a  labyrinth  of  tender  associations,  in  which,  as 
the  eye  roved  over  its  consecrated  nooks  and 
corners,  the  fancy,  in  all  reverence,  rambled 
lovingly !  The  tear  at  the  heart  kissed  the 
threshold  as  we  left  it. 

I  was  looking  admiringly,  once  more,  at  Jar- 
vis's  record  of  him  at  the  Sketch  Book  period  of 
his  life  (the  portrait  with  the  fur  collar,  which 
all  who  have  seen  it  will  so  well  remember), 
when  Mr.  Irving  came  in  from  his  drive.  We 
had  heard  so  much,  recently,  of  his  illness,  that 
I  was  surprised  to  see  with  how  lively  and  firm 
a  step  he  entered — removing  the  slouched  hat  (a 
comfortable  departure  from  the  old-school  cover 
ing,  which  I  had  never  expected  to  see  on  so 
proper  a  head !)  with  as  easy  elegance  as  ever, 


THE  LAST  RECORD. 


sitting  clown  with  hU  gray  shawl  left  carelessly 
over  lils  shoulders,  and  entering  upon  kind  in 
quiries  and  exchange  of  courtesies  with  no  hin 
drance  of  debility  that  I  could  see.  He  is  thinner 
somewhat,  in  both  form  and  features — owing  to 
the  asthma  which  interferes  somewhat  with  his 
repose  when  lying  down — but  the  genial  expres 
sion  of  his  countenance  is  unchanged,  and  his  eye 
as  kindly  and  bright.  As  to  sprightliness  of 
attention  and  reply,  I  could  see  little  difference 
from  the  Washington  Irving  of  other  days.  The 
reports  of  his  illness  must  have  been  exaggerated, 

I  thought. 

Conversation  falling  upon  exercise,  Mr.  Irving 
remarked  that  he  daily  took  his  drive  in  the 
carriage — less  from  any  desire  to  go  abroad  than 
from  finding,  since  he  had  giveu  up  habits  of 
labor,  that  time  hung  heavy  on  his  hands.  If  he 
walks  out,  it  is  only  in  the  grounds.  We  spoke 
of  horseback-riding,  and  he  gave  us  a  most 
amusing  account  of  his  two  last  experiences  in 
that  way — a  favorite  horse  called  "Gentleman 
Dick"  having  thrown  him  over  his  head  into  a 
laurel  bush,  which  kindly  broke  his  fall;  and 
another  very  handsome  nag,  given  him  by  his 
brother,  having  proved  to  be  opinionative  as  to 
choice  of  road — particularly  at  a  certain  bridge, 
which  it  was  very  necessary  to  pass,  in  every 
ride,  but  which  the  horse  could  not  by  any 
reasonable  persuasion  be  got  over.  With  the 
sending  of  this  horse-dogmatist  to  town,  to  be 
sold  to  meaner  service  for  his  obstinacy,  had 
ended  the  experiments  in  the  saddle. 

Attributable,  perhaps,  to  a  rallying  of  his  ani 
mal  spirits  with  cessation  from  work — I  could 
not  but  wonder  at  the  effortless  play  of  "  Diedrick 
Knickerbocker"  humor,  which  ran  through  all 
his  conversation — Washington  Irving,  in  his  best 
days,  I  am  very  sure,  was  never  more  socially 

II  agreeable"  than  with  us,  for  that  brief  visit.   One 
little  circumstance  was  mentioned  in  the  course 
of  this  pleasant  gossip.     There  was  some  passing 
discussion  of  the  wearing  of  beards — his  friend 
Mr.  Kennedy  have  made  that  alteration  in  his 
physiognomy    since    they    had    met — and    Mr. 
Irving  closed  a  playful  comment  or  two  upon  the 
habit,  by  saying  that  he  could  scarce  afford  the 
luxury  himself,  involving,  as  it  would  do,  the  loss 
of  the  most  effectual  quietus  of  his  nerves.     To 
get  up  and  shave,  when   tired  of  lying  awake, 
sure  of  going  to  sleep  immediately  after,  had  long 
been  a  habit  of  his.     There  was  an  amusing  ex 
change  of  sorrows,  also,  between  him  and  Mr. 
Kennedy,  as  to  persecution  by  autograph  hunters ; 
though  the  Ex-Secretary  gave  rather  the  strongest 
instance — mentioning  an  unknown  man  who  hid 
written  to  him,  when  at  the  head  of  the  Navy 
Department,  requesting,  as  one  of  his  constituents, 
to  be  furnished  with  autographs  of  all  the  Presi- 

7 


dents,  of  himself  and  the  rest  of  the  Cabinet,  and 
of  any  other  distinguished  men  with  whom  he 
might  be  in  correspondence ! 

But  there  was  a  table  calling  for  us,  which  was 
less  agreeable  than  the  one  we  were  at — the 
"time-table"  of  the  railroad  below  —  and  our 
host's  carriage  was  at  the  door.  Mr.  Kennedy 
was  bound  to  the  city,  where  Mr.  Irving,  as  he 
gave  us  his  farewell  upon  the  porch,  said  he 
thought  he  might  find  him,  in  a  day  or  two,  and 
Wise  and  I,  by  the  up-train,  were  bound  back  to 
Idlewild.  We  were  at  home  by  seven,  and  over 
our  venison  supper  (the  "Alleghany  haunch"  still 
bountiful),  we  exchanged  our  remembrances  of 
the  day,  and  our  felicitations  at  having  been  priv 
ileged,  thus  delightfully,  to  see,  in  his  home  and 
in  health,  the  still  sovereign  Story-King  of  the 
Hudson.  May  God  bless  him.  and  may  the  clouds 
about  his  loved  and  honored  head  grow  still 
brighter  with  the  nearer  setting  of  his  sun. 

A  Memoranda  or  two  made  after  attending  Mr. 
.  Irving'1  s  funeral. 

There  were  a  few  drops  of  rain  in  the  Highlands 
as  we  left  home  to  attend  the  funeral  of  Mr.  Ir 
ving.  The  air  was  breathlessly  still,  and  the  tem 
perature  soft  and  warm  ;  but  the  clouds  in  the 
west  looked  heavy,  as  if,  by  noon,  it  might  gath 
er  to  a  thunder-storm.  The  neighbors  to  whom 
I  spoke  upon  the  way,  anticipated  it.  But,  as 
the  train  made  its  way  down  the  river,  the  air 
brightened,  and  it  was  all  clear,  save  a-thin  veil 
of  mist  which  draped  the  valley  of  the  Hudson 
with  the  silvery  veil  common  to  a  day  of  Indian 
summer.  As  I  walked  along  the  uplands  of  Tar 
ry  town,  an  hour  before  the  funeral,  listening  to 
the  tolling  of  the  bells  and  looking  off  upon  the 
sunny  landscape  below,  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  Na 
ture  was  conscious  of  the  day's  event — present 
with  hushed  tread  and  countenance  of  sympathy 
and  tenderness,  but,  not  to  mourn!  There  was 
a  glorious  putting  away  of  the  morning  clouds, 
and  an  opening  upward  of  the  far-reaching  path 
of  sunshine  into  mid-heaven,  in  harmony  Avith 
what  all  felt,  save  perhaps  the  hearts  from  whose 
dailv  life,  thought,  and  fond  care  the  beloved  in 
valid  had  been  just  torn — a  noon,  it  seemed  to 
me,  that  was  tempered  as  if  by  the  hands  of  min 
istering  angels — a  lifting  of  the  gloom  of  death 
for  one  whose  departure  should  be  cheerful  be 
yond  man's  ordinary  lot.  To  a  pure  life,  nobly 
and  beautifully  completed,  it  was  Death's  inevi 
table  coming;  but,  ordered  at  the  most  timely 
hour,  and  announced  with  the  gentleness  of  a 
welcome. 

The  ferryman,  as  I  crossed  the  river  (forty 
miles  above*  Sunnyside,  and  out  of  reach,  of  course, 
of  the  neighborhood's  rumor  of  the  day),  had  gi  v- 

xlix 


MR.    TlLTON   AT    SUNNYSIDE. 


en  me  a  touching  proof  of  the  singular  universali 
ty  of  the  departed  one's  hold  upon  the  popular 
heart.  It  was,  of  course,  a  man  of  the  laboring 
class,  hard-working,  and,  in  his  ordinary  inter 
course  with  those  around  him,  little  likely  to  hear 
a  book  mentioned — but  he  had  read  and  loved 
lining.  "  You  are  going  down  to  the  funeral,  I 
suppose,  sir?"  he  inquired,  as  I  stepped  on  board. 
"Yes,"  I  replied,  "and  we  have  a  great  loss  in 
the  death  of  such  a  man."  "A  loss,  indeed  !  and, 
as  soon  as  I  heard  of  it,  I  put  the  flag  at  half- 
mast,  and  we  shall  keep  it  there  to-day,"  he  said, 
as  he  turned  thoughtfully  away.  How  beautiful 
for  Irving  (I  could  not  but  think)  to  have  died, 
not  only  with  all  the  world's  highest  honors  about 
his  head,  but  to  be  mourned,  also,  at  the  deeper 
and  more  sacred  level  of  the  world's  common 
heart. 

It  is  probable,  that,  among  the  many  descrip 
tions  of  the  funeral  ceremony,  there  will  be  a 
mention — (possibly  a  portrait  in  one  of  the  illus 
trated  papers) — of  a  tall  and  ragged  old  man, 
with  very  marked  physiognomy,  who  fell  into 
the  procession  of  the  wealthy  and  gifted,  ap 
proaching  the  chancel  to  take  a  last  look  at  the 
cold  features  in  the  coffin.  My  attention  was 
called  to  him  as  he  unconsciously  crowded  his 
ragged  shoulder  against  our  country's  wealthiest 
man  (Mr.  Astor),  with  whose  heart  his  own 
humbler  heart  had,  for  that  moment,  a  tear  in 
common,  I  am  sure.  In  unconscious  forgetfulness 
of  all  around,  he  tottered  down  the  north  aisle — 
his  rough  features  full  of  emotion  at  what  he  had 
just  gazed  upon,  and  appearing,  in  his  whole  fig 
ure  and  aspect,  so  like  what  has  been  portrayed 
to  us  in  Irving's  sketches  of  other  days!  He 
might  easily  have  been  a  relic  of  the  early  settlers 
of  the  hills  near  by — a  type,  by  fair  inheritance, 
of  the  characters  who  were  the  studies  of  "  Died- 
rick  Knickerbocker" — but  it  seemed  a  striking 
apparition  of  the  Past,  so  strangely  conjured  into 
the  midst  of  that  crowd  of  To-Day 's  gifted  and 
distinguished ! 

There  is  little  to  add  to  the  many  touching  de 
scriptions  of  the  funeral,  or  to  the  interesting  par 
ticulars  of  the  last  days  of  Mr.  Irving.  They  have 
been  well  and  lovingly  written  upon,  by  many 
and  able  pens.  As  I  stood  in  the  church,  before 
the  service,  I  heard,  incidentally,  from  one  of  the 
neighbors  who  was  often  at  Sunnyside,  that  Mr. 
Irving  had  been  for  some  time  aware  of  the  un 
certain  tenure  of  his  life — with  the  disease  at  his 
heart  which  has  now  ended  it  so  suddenly.  He 
fully  anticipated  an  instantaneous  stopping  of  the 
fluttering  pulse,  and  was,  therefore,  careful  never 
to  be  left  alone — but  he  talked  cheerfully  of  dy 
ing.  My  companion  home,  after  the  funeral 
(Mr.  Grinnel),  was  one  of  our  party  when  the  be 
loved  author  accompanied  us  on  a  visit  to  "  Sleepy 


Hollow,"  two  years  ago — a  privileged  day  which 
I  described  in  the  Home  Journal,  at  the  time — 
and  he  recalled  to  my  mind  the  peculiar  unhesi- 
tatingness  with  which  Mr.  Irving  pointed  out  to 
us,  as  we  drove  past  it  in  the  carriage,  the  old 
church  which  was  his  family  burying-ground. 
"It  is  soon  to  be  my  resting-place,'"1  he  said,  ex 
pressing  it  in  the  tone  of  an  habitual  thought,,  and 
returning  immediately  to  the  lively  conversation 
suggested  by  the  historic  scenery  we  were  pass 
ing  through.  And,  to  this  place,  he  was  borne 
and  laid  to  rest,  yesterday — "blessed  of  the 
Lord,"  we  may  well  believe,  in  having  been 
"  found  ready." 


HALF  AN   HOUR   AT   SUNNYSIDE.» 


A  YISIT  TO  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 
BY   THEODORE   TILTON. 

I  HAD  half  an  hour  one  day  last  week  at  Sun 
nyside — the  residence  of  Washington  Irving. 
Such  a  half  hour  ought  to  have  been  one  of  the 
pleasantest  in  one's  life ;  and  so  it  was !  The 
pleasure  began  before  reaching  the  door-step,  or 
taking  the  old  man's  hand — in  the  thousand  as 
sociations  of  the  place — for  a  visit  to  Sunnyside 
is  equal  to  a  pilgrimage  to  Abbotsford. 

The  quaint,  grotesque  old  dwelling,  with  its 
old-fashioned  gables,  stood  as  solemn  and  sleepy 
among  the  trees  as  if  it  had  been  built  to  per 
sonate  old  Rip  Van  Winkle  at  his  nap.  The 
grounds  were  covered  with  brown  and  yellow 
leaves,  with  here  and  there  a  red-squirrel  run 
ning  and  rustling  among  them,  as  if  pretending 
to  be  the  true  red-breast  that  laid  the  leaves 
over  the  babes  in  the  wood. 

The  morning  had  been  rainy,  and  the  after 
noon  showed  only  a  few  momentary  openings  of 
clear  sky ;  so  that  I  saw  Sunnyside  without  the 
sun.  But  under  the  heavy  clouds  there  was 
something  awe-inspiring  in  the  sombre  view  of 
those  grand  hills  with  their  many-colored  forests, 
and  of  llendrik  Hudson's  ancient  river  still  flow 
ing  at  the  feet  of  the  ancient  Palisades. 

The  mansion  of  Sunnyside  has  been  standing 
for  twenty-three  years ;  but  when  first  its  sharp- 
angled  roof  wedged  its  way  up  among  the 
branches  of  the  old  woods,  the  region  was  far 
more  a  solitude  than  now ;  for  at  that  time  our 
busy  author  had  secluded  himself  from  almost 
everybody  but  one  near  neighbor ;  while  he  has 
since  unwittingly  gathered  around  him  a  little 
community  of  New  York  merchants,  whose  ele- 

*  From  the  Independent,  Nov.  24,  1859. 


HABITS  OF  COMPOSITION. 


gant  country -seats,  opening  into  each  other  by 
mutual  intertwining  roads,  form  what  looks  like 
one  vast  and  free  estate,  called  on  the  time-tables 
of  the  railroad  by  the  honorary  name  of  Irving- 
ton.  But  even  within  the  growing  circle  of  his 
many  neighbors,  the  genial  old  Knickerbocker 
still  lives  in  true  retirement,  entertaining  his 
guests  within  echo  distance  of  Sleepy  Hollow — 
without  thought,  and  almost  without  knowledge, 

" how  the  great  world 

Is  praising  him  far  off." 

He  withdrew  a  year  ago  from  all  literary  labor, 
and  is  now  spending  the  close  of  his  life  in  well- 
earned  and  long-needed  repose. 

Mr.  Irving  is  not  so  old-looking  as  one  would 
expect  who  knew  his  age.  I  fancied  him  as  in 
the  winter  of  life ;  I  found  him  only  in  its  Indian 
summer.  He  came  down  stairs,  and  walked 
through  the  hall  into  the  back-parlor,  with  a 
firm  and  lively  step  that  might  well  have  made 
one  doubt  whether  he  had  truly  attained  his 
seventy-seventh  year.  He  was  suffering  from 
asthma,  and  was  muffled  against  the  damp  air  j 
with  a  Scotch  shawl,  wrapped  like  a  great  loose 
scarf  around  his  neck;  but  as  he  took  his  seat 
in  the  old  arm-chair,  and,  despite  his  hoarseness 
and  troubled  chest,  began  an  unexpectedly  viva 
cious  conversation,  he  made  me  almost  forget 
that  I  was  the  guest  of  an  old  man  long  past  his 
"  threescore  years  and  ten." 

But  what  should  one  talk  about  who  had  only 
half  an  hour  with  Washington  Irving?  I  ven 
tured  the  question, 

"Now  that  you  have  laid  aside  your  pen, 
which  of  your  books  do  you  look  back  upon 
with  most  pleasure  ?" 

He  immediately  replied,  "  I  scarcely  look  with 
full  satisfaction  upon  any ;  for  they  do  not  seem 
what  they  might  have  been.  I  often  wish  that 
I  could  have  twenty  years  more,  to  take  them 
down  from  the  shelf,  one  by  one,  and  write 
them  over." 

He  spoke  of  his  daily  habits  of  writing,  before 
he  had  made  the  resolution  to  write  no  more. 
His  usual  hours  for  literary  work  were  from 
morning  till  noon.  But,  although  he  had  gen 
erally  found  his  mind  most  vigorous  in  the  early 
part  of  the  day,  he  had  always  been  subject  to 
moods  and  caprices,  and  could  never  tell,  when 
he  took  up  the  pen,  how  many  hours  would  pass 
before  he  would  lay  it  down. 

"  But,"  said  he,  "  these  capricious  periods,  of 
the  heat  and  glow  of  composition,  have  been  the 
happiest  hours  of  my  life.  I  have  never  found, 
in  any  thing  outside  of  the  four  walls  of  ray 
study,  any  enjoyment  equal  to  sitting  at  my 
writing-desk  with  a  clean  page,  a  new  theme, 
and  a  mind  awake. 


His  literary  employments,  he  remarked,  had 
always  been  more  like  entertainments  than  tasks. 

"  Some  writers,"  said  he,  "  appear  to  have 
been  independent  of  moods.  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
for  instance,  had  great  power  of  writing,  and 
could  work  almost  at  any  time  ;  so  could  Crabbe 
— but  with  this  difference :  Scott  always,  and 
Crabbe  seldom,  wrote  well.  "  I  remember,"  said 
he,  "  taking  breakfast  one  morning  with  Kogers, 
Moore,  and  Crabbe.  The  conversation  turned  on 
Lord  Byron's  poetic  moods  :  Crabbe  said  that, 
however  it  might  be  with  Lord  Byron,  as  for 
himself  he  could  write  as  well  one  time  as  at 
another.  But,"  said  Irving,  with  a  twinkle  of 
humor  at  recalling  the  incident,  u  Crabbe  has 
written  a  great  deal  that  nobody  can  read." 

He  mentioned  that  while  living  in  Paris  he 
went  a  long  period  without  being  able  to  write. 
"  I  sat  down  repeatedly,"  said  he,  "  with  pen  and 
inkT  but  could  invent  nothing  worth  putting  on 
the  paper.  At  length,  I  told  my  friend,  Tom 
Moore,  who  dropped  in  one  morning,  that  now, 
after  long  waiting,  I  had  the  mood,  and  would 
hold  it,  and  work  it  out  as  long  as  it  would  last, 
until  I  had  wrung  my  brain  dry.  So  I  began  to 
write  shortly  after  breakfast,  and  continued, 
without  noticing  how  the  time  was  passing,  un 
til  Moore  came  in  again  at  four  in  the  afternoon 
— when  I  had  completely  covered  the  table  with 
freshly-written  sheets.  I  kept  the  mood  almost 
without  interruption  for  six  weeks." 

I  asked  which  of  his  books  was  the  result  of 
this  frenzy  ;  he  replied,  u  Bracebridge  Hall?'1 

"  None  of  your  works,"  I  remarked,  "  are 
more  charming  than  the  Biography  of  Gold 
smith." 

"  Yet  that  was  written,"  said  he,  "  even  more 
rapidly  than  the  other."  He  then  added : 

u  When  I  have  been  engaged  on  a  continuous 
work,.  I  have  often  been  obliged  to  rise  in  the 
middle  of  the  night,  light  my  lamp,  and  write  an 
hour  or  two,  to  relieve  my  mind ;  and  now  that 
I  write  no  more,  I  am  sometimes  compelled  to 
get  up  in  the  same  way  to  read." 

Sometimes,  also,  as  the  last  Idlewild  letters 
mention,  he  gets  up  to  shave. 

u  When  I  wras  in  Spain,"  he  remarked, 
"searching  the  old  chronicles,  and  engaged  on 
the  Life  of  Columbus,  I  often  wrote  fourteen  or 
fifteen  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four." 

He  said  that  whenever  he  had  forced  his  mind 
unwillingly  to  work,  the  product  was  worthless, 
and  he  invariably  threw  it  away  and  began 
again  ;  "  for,"  as  he  observed,  "  an  essay  or 
chapter  that  has  been  only  hammered  out  is  sel 
dom  good  for  any  thing.  An  author's  right  time 
to  work  is  when  his  mind  is  aglow  ;  when  his 
imagination  is  kindled ;  these  are  his  precious 
moments :  let  him  wait  until  they  come,  but 

li 


SUNNYSIDE. 


when  they  have  come  let  him  make  the  most  of 
them." 

I  referred  to  his  last  and  greatest  work,  the 
Life  of  Washington,  and  asked  if  he  felt,  on  fin 
ishing  it,  any  such  sensation  as  Gibbon  is  said  to 
have  experienced  over  the  last  sheet  of  the  De 
cline-  </ mi  Fall.  He  replied  that  the  whole  work 
had  engrossed  his  mind  to  such  a  degree  that, 
before  be  was  a  ware,  lie  had  written  himself  into 
feebleness  of  health  ;  that  he  feared  in  the  midst 
of  his  labor  that  it  would  break  him  down  before 
he  could  end  it;  that  when  at  last  the  linal 
pages  were  written,  he  gave  the  manuscript  to 
liis  nephew  to  be  conducted  through  the  press, 
and  threw  himself  back  upon  his  red  cushioned 
lounge  with  an  indescribable  feeling  of  relief, 
lie  added,  that  the  great  fatigue  of  mind  through 
out,  the  whole  task  had  resulted  from  the  care 
and  pains  required  in  the  construction  and 
arrangement  of  materials,  and  not  in  the 
mere  literary  composition  of  the  successive 
chapters. 

Uut  what  magnificent  volumes !  What  a  work 
for  an  old  man  to  have  achieved!  What  a  fit 
ting  close  to  the  labors  of  a  long  and  busy  life! 
They  unite  on  one  page,  and  will  perpetuate  in 
one  memory,  not  only  a  great  name,  but  its 
great  namesake  :  the  Father  of  the  American 
Republic,  and  the  Father  of  the  American  Re 
public  of  Letters. 

On  the  parlor  wall  hung  the  engraving  of  Faed's 
picture  of  "Scott  and  his  Contemporaries."  I 
alluded  to  it  as  presenting  a  group  of  his  for 
mer  friends. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  1  knew  every  man  of  them 
but  three:  and  now  they  are  all  gone." 

"Are  the  portraits  good?"  I  inquired. 

"  Scott's  head,"  he  replied,  "  is  well  drawn, 
though  the  expression  lacks  something  of  Scott's 
force  ;  Campbell's  is  tolerable;  Lockhart's  is  the 
worst.  Lockhart,"  said  he,  "was  a  man  of  very 
delicate  organization,  but  he  had  a  more  manly 
look  than  in  the  picture." 

"  You  should  write  one  more  book,"  I  hinted. 

"What  is  that?" 

"  Your  reminiscences  of  those  literary  friends." 

"Ah,"  he  exclaimed,  "it  is  too  late  now!  I 
shall  never  take  the  pen  again  ;  1  have  so  en 
tirely  given  up  writing,  that  even  my  best 
friends'  letters  lie  unanswered.  I  must  have 
rest.  No  more  books  now!" 

He  referred  to  the  visit,  a  week  before,  from 
Mr.  Willis,  whose  letter  he  had  just  been  read 
ing  in  the  Home  Journal. 

"  I  am  most  glad,"  said  he,  "  that  Mr.  Willis 
remembered  my  nieces ;  they  are  my  house 
keepers  and  nurses;  they  take  such  good  care 
of  me  that  really  I  am  the  most  fortunate  old 
bachelor  in  the  world!  Yes,"  he  repeated  with 

lii 


a  merry  emphasis,  "the  most  fortunate  old 
bachelor  in  all  the  world!" 

It  was  delightful  to  witness  the  animation  of 
his  manner,  and  the  heartiness  of  his  gratitude, 
as  he  continued  to  relate  how  they  supplied  all 
his  wants — gave  him  his  medicines  at  the  right 
time,  without  troubling  him  to  look  at  the  clock 
for  himself — called  him  down  to  breakfast — 
cloaked  and  shawled  him  for  his  morning  ride — 
brought  him  his  hat  for  his  fine-weather  walks 
— and  in  every  possible  way  humored  him  in 
every  possible  whim. 

"  1  call  them  sometimes  my  nieces,"  he  said, 
"but  oftener  my  daughters!" 

As  I  rose  to  go,  he  brought  from  a  corner  of 
the  room  a  photograph  of  a  little  girl,  exhibit 
ing  it  with  great  enthusiasm.  It  was  a  gift  from 
a  little  child  who  had  come  to  see  him  every 
day  during  his  sickness.  The  picture  was  ac 
companied  with  a  note,  printed  in  large  letters, 
with  a  lead  pencil,  by  the  little  correspondent, 
who  said  she  was  too  young  to  write!  He  spoke 
with  great  vivacity  of  his  childish  visitor. 
" Children,"  said  the  old  man,  "are  great  pets: 
I  am  very  fond  of  the  little  creatures." 

The  author's  study — into  which  I  looked  for  a 
few  moments  before  leaving — is  a  small  room, 
almost  entirely  tilled  by  the  great  writing-table 
and  the  lounge  behind  it.  The  walls  are  laden 
with  books  and  pictures,  which  evidently  are 
rearranged  every  day  by  some  delicate  hand  ; 
for  none  of  the  books  were  tumbled  into  a  cor 
ner,  and  no  papers  were  lying  loose  upon  the 
table.  The  pen,  too,  was  laid  precisely  parallel 
to  the  edge  of  the  inkstand — a  nicety  which 
only  a  womanly  housekeeper  would  persevere 
to  maintain!  Besides,  there  was  not  a  speck  of 
dust  upon  carpet  or  cushion  ! 

I  stood  reverently  in  the  little  room — as  if  it 
were  a  sacred  place !  Its  associations  filled  my 
mind  with  as  much  delight  as  if  I  had  been 
breathing  fragrance  from  hidden  flowers.  On 
leaving,  I  carried  the  picture  of  it  vividly  in  my 
mind,  and  still  carry  it; — the  quiet,  secluded, 
poetic  haunt  in  which  a  great  author  wrote  his 
greatest  works ! 

As  I  came  away,  the  old  gentleman  bundled 
his  shawl  about  him,  and  stood  a  few  moments 
on  the  steps.  A  momentary  burst  of  sunshine 
fell  on  him  through  the  breaking  clouds.  In 
that  full  light  lie  looked  still  less  like  an  old 
man  than  in  the  dark  parlor  by  the  shaded 
window.  His  form  was  slightly  bent,  but  the 
quiet  humor  of  the  early  portraits  was  still  lin 
gering  in  his  face.  He  was  the  same  genial, 
fenerous,  merry-eyed  man  at  seventy-seven  as 
arvis  had  painted  him  nearly  fifty  years  before. 
I  wish  always  to  remember  him  us  1  saw  him  at 
that  last  moment ! 


ME.  TIFFANY'S  REMINISCENCES. 


A  DAY  AT  BUNNYSIDE.O 

BY    OSMOND    TIFFANY. 

I  MET  Mr.  Irving  only  once,  but  then  it  was 
by  his  own  fireside,  with  no  other  visitor  to 
share  my  enjoyment.  It  was  in  the  summer  of 
1853,  when  I  had  left  Baltimore  for  the  hot  sea 
son,  and  was  passing  my  time  at  White  Plains, 
eight  miles  from  Sunnyside.  The  lion.  John  P. 
Kennedy,  an  intimate  friend  of  Irving's,  had 
given  me  a  letter  to  him,  and  on  a  lovely  August 
day  I  drove  over  to  his  house.  ***** 

Mr.  Irving  was  suffering  a  little  that  day  with 
headache,  and  feeling  unwilling  to  detain  him, 
after  a  pleasant  call  of  half  an  hour,  I  rose  to 
depart,  lie,  however,  would  not  permit  me  to 
do  so,  saying  that  I  had  come  from  a  distance, 
and  must  stay  to  dinner.  He  then  added  that 
he  wished  a  little  rest,  but  that  if  I  could  amuse 
myself  with  a  book,  or  strolling  about  the 
grounds,  he  would  leave  me  to  myself  for  an 
hour  or  so.  Nothing  more  delightful  than  to 
tread  the  lawn  at  Sunnyside.  It  overhung  the 
river,  the  railroad  passing  directly  under  the 
bank  from  which  I  looked  across  the  Tappan 
sea.  It  was  the  day  of  the  inauguration  of  the 
Crystal  Palace,  and  all  the  world  in  heat  and 
dust  had  gone  to  look  at  President  Pierce,  while 
I  was  alone  with  Washington  Irving.  Miles 
away,  across  the  water,  lay  Tappan,  where  Andre 
bravely  met  his  melancholy  doom.  Above  and 
below  stretched  an  enchanting  prospect,  ever 
enlivened  by  the  white-winged  craft  scudding 
before  or  beating  in  the  wind.  Nature  and  art 
were  charmingly  blended  in  the  grounds,  fine 
deciduous  trees  and  evergreens  contrasted  foli 
age,  while  winding  paths  led  into  shady  dells 
and  arbors,  or  to  rustic  bridges  which  spanned  a 
brooklet  running  riverward.  The  whole  sweet 
scene  was  in  unison  with  the  genial  spirit  of  its 
possessor. 

On  returning  to  the  house  near  four  o'clock, 
Mr.  Irving  met  me  again  in  the  parlor.  This 
was  a  large  and  handsomely  furnished  room, 
decorated  with  paintings  and  engravings,  several 
of  them  scenes  from  the  author's  own  writings, 
which  had  been  given  to  him,  while  the  book- 
table  displayed  choice  presentation  copies  of 
works  from  literary  friends.  I  was  attracted  by 
a  collection  of  Wilkie's  engraved  works,  and 
particularly  struck  by  one  of  its  subjects ;  a 
young  monk  on  his  knees  confessing  to  an  old 
one.  Mr.  Irving  said  that  he  himself  was  with 
Wilkie,  when  he  made  the  sketch  of  this  picture. 
They  were  travelling  together  in  Spain,  and  one 
day,  in  passing  through  the  aisles  of  one  of  its 
old  cathedrals,  they  peeped  into  a  confessional 

*  From  the  Sprlnrjfidd  Republican, 


and  beheld  a  venerable  bearded  ecclesiastic, 
listening  to  the  fervent  confession  of  sin  from  a 
young  devotee.  WTilkie  instantly  stopped  and 
sketched  this  striking  scene,  elaborating  it  on 
his  return  to  England. 

Dinner  being  now  announced,  we  were  joined 
by  a  brother  of  Mr.  Irving,  who  with  his  three 
daughters  reside  at  Sunnyside.  In  introducing 
me  to  his  nieces,  he  playfully  spoke  of  them  as 
his  adopted  daughters,  for  want  of  any  of  his 
own.  He  had  now  entirely  recovered  from  his 
headache,  and  was  in  the  most  lively  and  agree 
able  mood.  I  had  heard  that  in  general  society 
he  was  often  silent,  and  I  knew  that  on  public 
occasions  he  could  not  possibly  speak,  but  now 
nothing  could  be  more  delightful  than  the  flow 
of  his  conversation.  I  found  that  the  best  way 
to  draw  him  out,  was  to  let  him  talk  on  at  will, 
now  and  then  making  some  slight  suggestion 
which  would  open  a  new  subject.  In  this  man 
ner  he  touched  upon  his  travels  in  Spain,  and 
recalled  the  palmy  days  of  the  Alhambra,  and  it 
was  like  reading  one  of  his  fine  romances,  to 
hear  him  speak  of  bygone  scenes  in  Granada, 
Madrid,  and  Seville.  He  had  many  anecdotes 
of  the  celebrated  actors  and  singers  of  his  time, 
for  he  was  fond  of  music,  and  thoroughly  appre 
ciated  high  dramatic  art.  I  mentioned  the 
"Little  Ked  Horse  Inn,"  which  he  has  made 
immortal  by  his  sketch  of  Stratford-on-Avon, 
and  told  him,  that  as  soon  as  I  visited  it,  the 
landlord  on  finding  I  was  an  American  brought 
in  a  copy  of  his  works,  and  said  he  was  proud 
always  to  meet  the  author's  countrymen.  Mr. 
Irving  added,  that  on  his  first  return  to  Stratford, 
after  the  publication  of  the  Sketch  Booh,  he  was 
in  company  with  Mr.  Van  Buren,  and  that  they 
were  greatly  amused  by  the  landlady  rushing  in, 
holding  up  the  poker  with  which  he  stirred  the 
tire,  and  saying,  "Sir,  you  see  I've  got  your 
sceptre  safe." 

Nothing  could  be  more  modest  than  the  way 
in  which  Mr.  Irving  spoke  of  himself  or  of  his 
works,  never  naming  them,  unless  they  were 
alluded  to.  Indeed  his  whole  manner  was  in 
striking  contrast  to  the  flippancy  of  some  shal 
low  literary  men,  and  to  the  "smile  superior," 
the  self-complacency,  and  consummate  impu 
dence  of  some  of  the  "curled  darlings"  of  the 
lecture-room,  who  annually  visit  the  rural  dis 
tricts  to  instruct  us  about  "society,"  and  tell 
how  New  York  snobocracy  ties  its  cravats  and 
flirts  its  fans  in  Madison  Square.  Here  was  a 
man  who  for  half  a  century  had  moved  in  the 
very  highest  circles  of  wealth,  style,  and  intellect, 
caressed  on  every  hand,  yet  whom  panegyric 
and  flattery  could  not  spoil,  and  who  had  pre 
served  unspotted  his  true  nobility  of  nature.  A 
modest  hero  of  letters,  a  perfect  gentleman  in 

liii 


AN  IRVING  ANECDOTE. 


soul  as  in  manner,  one  felt  in  his  presence  the 

iutiiu'iice  of — 

"A  mind  that  all  the  muses  deck'd 

With  gifts  of  grace,  which  might  express 
All  comprehensive  tenderness 
All  subtilizing  intellect 

"  Heart  affluence  in  discursive  talk 

From  household  fountains  never  dry, 
The  critic  clearness  of  an  eye 
Which  saw  through  all  the  muses1  walk." 


ANECDOTE  OF  WASHINGTON  IRVING.* 

WE  dined  at  General  Webb's,  at  his  charming 
"Pokahoe,"  in  honor  of  Dr.  Wainwright,  lately 
chosen  to  be  Provisional  Bishop  of  New  York. 

The  company  consisted  of  Bishop  Doane,  Dr. 
Wain wright,  Dr.  Creighton,  Dr.  Vinton,  and  Mr. 
Southard,  of  the  clergy;  with  Mr.  Charles  King 
and  Mr.  Washington  Irving.  These  guests,  en 
livened  by  the  happy  occasion  of  their  gathering, 
enjoyed  the  day  prodigiously.  Mr.  Irving  was 
silent  for  a  long  time  ;  yet  he  seemed  interested  in 
the  conversation,  till,  gradually,  his  eye  lighted, 
and  his  face  beamed,  and  he  ventured  to  drop  a 
word,  here  and  there,  sometimes  spontaneously  in 
repartee,  but  chiefly  in  monosyllabic  response. 

The  company  evidently  respected  his  accustom 
ed  taciturnity  with  strangers,  especially  as  our 
host  had  hinted  to  us  that  Mr.  Irving  reluctantly 
allowed  himself  to  be  drawn  from  his  seclusion  to 
participate  in  a  "  Clerical  dinner-party."  Dinner 
parties  he  abhorred;  and  clerical  dinner-parties 
he  conceived  to  be  the  most  dull,  precise,  and 
formal  of  social  ceremonies. 

To  Mr.  Charles  King  we  were  indebted  foi 
bringing  Mr.  Irving  out  and  keeping  him  awake, 
and  cheating  him  of  his  accustomed  nap.  He 
addressed  Mr.  Irving  as  Major,  recounting  the 
scenes  of  his  young  manhood  when  he  was  aid- 
de-camp  to  Gov.  Tompkins  in  the  u  last  war.' 
Mr.  Irving  enjoyed  the  reminiscence  to  such  i 
degree  that  his  reserve  was  entirely  dissipated 
and  he  volunteered  an  anecdote  of  his  militar} 
service  on  Fort  Greene,  and  of  the  mishap  of  the 
Governor  in  being  upset  from  his  horse  into  the 
ditch  of  the  Fort,  which  he  told  with  inimitable 
humor,  and  with  a  relish  characteristic  of  Died 
rick  Knickerbocker. 

The  ice  was  fairly  broken.  The  connection  o 
Mr.  Irving  and  the  soldier  was  itself  a  ludicrous 
juxtaposition,  and  he  himself  made  the  most  fun 
of  it. 

Our  host  first  playfully,  and  then  seriously,  en 
deavored  to  persuade  him  to  apply  for  his  "  land 
warrant,"  to  which  his  services  entitled  him,  b} 

*  From  the  Courier  and  Enquirer,  Dec.  14, 1 859. 


ict  of  Congress.  We  severally  promised  to  do  the 
writing,  it'  he  would  sign  the  application.  And 
we  urged  the  worth  of  the  laud- warrant  as  a 
memento  which  would  be  so  valuable  one  of 
these  days,  as  to  be  sought  for  at  a  price  which 
would  feed  the  poor,  or  provide  a  chancel  window, 
or  even  (said  one)  to  build  a  new  church  for 
Tarry  town. 

Mr.  Irving  was  greatly  amused  by  the  persua 
sions  of  the  company,  parrying  the  arguments, 
one  after  another,  with  sly  skill  and  evident 
delight. 

He  hit  the  clergy  with  a  gentle  sarcasm  at  their 
disinterestedness,  and  intimated  that  their  zeal 
for  a  new  church  or  a  chancel  window  was  hav 
ing  "  a  single  eye  for  the  public  good."  And  he 
bantered  Mr.  King  and  our  host  upon  the  affec 
tation  of  military  esprit  de  corps.  When  the 
time  came  for  parting,  Mr.  Irving  invited  us  to 
call  upon  him  at  uSunnyside,"  and  whispered  to 
our  host,  "  When  you  have  another  clerical 
dinner-party,  count  me  in." 

The  next  day  we  called  on  Mr.  Irving  at  Sunny- 
side.  It  was  the  day  of  Mr.  Webster's  funeral  at 
Marsh  field.  It  was  one  of  the  glorious  days  of 
October,  when  the  mists  of  Tappaan  Zee  flung  a 
veil  over  the  charms  of  the  Rockland  Hills,  ob 
scuring  the  landscape  of  the  Highlands  in  that 
half-light  which  Doughty  knew  so  well  how  to 
paint.  The  sun  was  warm  and  genial  and  the  air 
balmy,  insomuch  that  we  adjourned  from  the 
parlor  to  the  porch.  The  conversation  turned 
upon  Mr.  Webster, — his  life,  his  labors,  his  suc 
cesses,  his  disappointments,  his  death,  and  the  loss 
to  his  mourning  country.  Thence,  it  changed  to 
Mr.  Webster's  compeers  and  the  era  of  the  Re 
public  when  they  lived,  and  to  a  comparison  with 
the  preceding  epochs,  and  thence  to  prognostica 
tions  and  politics  in  general. 

Just  then,  my  eye  was  attracted  to  an  apple- 
tree  loaded  with  a  precious  freight  of  bright  red 
apples,  to  which  I  quietly  walked,  unperceived, 
as  I  supposed.  I  picked  an  apple  from  the 
ground  :  it  was  very  good.  I  tried  another  :  it 
was  somewhat  decayed.  I  then  threw  some  of 
them  at  the  sound  bright  red  apples  on  the  tree. 

While  thus  busied,  I  heard  a  tenor  voice  cry 
ing  out:  u  An  old  man  once  saw  a  rude  boy 
stealing  apples,  and  he  ordered  him  to  come 
down." 

Looking  round,  I  saw  Mr.  Irving  coming  to 
wards  me,  to  whom  I  replied:  uBut  the  young 
saucebox  told  him  decidedly  that  he  would  not." 

Mr.  Irving  rejoined  :  "  Then  the  old  man  pelt 
ed  him  with  grass." 

I  replied,  uAt  which  the  saucebox  laughed: 
whereupon  the  old  man  began  to  pelt  him,  say 
ing,  ll  will  see  what  virtue  there  is  in  stones.' " 

"  Ah  !  you've  read  it,  you've  read  it,"  exclaim- 


MR.  CUBITS'  TRIBUTE. 


ed  Mr.  Irving,  clapping  his  hands  in  great  glee, 
and  fairly  running,  in  a  dog-trot,  to  my  side. 

u  I  hope  my  guests  will  excuse  me,"  he  said ; 
u  but  I  could  not  refrain  from  coming  to  you." 

"  Yet  they  were  conversing  on  very  grave  and 
interesting  topics,"  said  I ;  "  and  I  wonder  you 
could  break  a\vay  so  easily  to  detect  a  young 
saucebox  stealing  your  apples." 

"  Well  I  must  tell  you  how  it  happened,"  he 
replied.  "  To  be  sure  the  topics  are  grave  and 
patriotic,  and  all  that,  yet  when  I  saw  you  eating 
my  apples  from  this  grand  old  tree,  and  trying  to 
knock  some  down  with  the  rotten  apples  spread 
about  here,  it  brought  to  my  mind  a  circumstance 
which  happened  to  me,  on  this  very  spot,  some 
fifteen  years  ago.  I  had  lately  come  from  Spain, 
and  was  building  yonder  nondescript  cottage, 
half  Moorish  and  half  English — an  olla  podrida 
sort  of  thing — about  which  I  was  excessively  in 
terested,  considering  my  work  as  patriotic  and  as 
grave  a  matter  as  the  conversation  down  there. 

"  I  was  watching  the  workmen,  directing  this 
one  and  that  one,  lest  the  idea  of  my  fancy  might 
not  be  realized,  when,  in  turning,  my  eye  caught 
this  apple-tree,  loaded  with  its  fruit  (just  as  your 
eye  did).  It  was  a  day  like  this,  one  of  our 
October  days — our  Highland  October  days — such 
as  one  lights  upon  nowhere  else  in  the  world. 
And  this  apple-tree  bore  that  year  as  it  does  not 
bear  every  year,  yet  just  like  this.  Well,  I  left 
my  workmen  and  my  talk  (just  as  you  did),  and 
ate  one  of  these  windfalls  (just  as  you  did),  and 
liked  it  (just  as  you  did),  and  then  I  tried  to 
knock  some  down  (just  as  you  did).  Now,  while 
I  was  enjoying  these  fine  apples  (it  was  for  the 
first  time).  "  Just  as  I  am  now,"  I  interposed. 
"  Yes,  yes,"  he  continued.  "A  little  urchin — 
such  as  infest  houses  in  building — a  ragged  little 
urchin,  out  at  the  knees  and  out  at  the  elbows — 
came  up  to  me  and  said,  sotto  voce,  '  Mister,  do 
you  love  apples  ?'  'Ay,  that  I  do,'  said  I.  4  Well, 
come  with  me,  and  I'll  show  you  where  are  some 
better  than  them  are.'  'Ah,'  said  I,  '  where  are 
they?"  'Just  over  the  hill,  there,'  said  he. 
1  Well,  show  me,'  said  I.  '  Come  along,'  said  the 
little  thief,  '  but  dan? t  let  the  old  man  see  us.'  So 
I  went  with  him  and  stole  my  own  apples. 

"Thus,  you  see  how  it  happened  that  I  could 
not  stay  with  the  politicians."  And,  as  he  said 
this,  his  whole  frame  shook  with  fun;  and  his 
face  threw  off  the  wrinkles  of  seventy  years. 
Geoffrey  Crayon  stood  before  me. 


WASHINGTON  IRVING.* 

BY    GEORGE    WILLIAM    OUETIS. 

THE  news  of  Irving's  death  did  not  surprise 
those  who  knew  how  gradually  but  surely  he 
had  been  failing  for  several  months  ;  and  yet  the 
death  of  any  one  we  love,  however  long  expect 
ed,  is  sudden  at  last — and  he  was  the  one  man 
whom  the  whole  country  loved.  Men  of  greater 
genius,  of  more  persuasive  and  brilliant  power, 
more  peculiarly  identified  than  he  with  charac 
teristic  American  development,  there  are  and 
have  been,  but  no  character  since  Washington 
so  symmetrical,  and  no  career  more  rounded  and 
complete. 

With  Irving,  the  man  and  the  author  were 
one.  The  same  twinkling  humor,  untouched  by 
personal  venom ;  the  same  sweetness,  geniality, 
and  grace;  the  same  transparency  and  childlike 
simplicity,  which  endeared  the  writer  to  his  read 
ers,  endeared  the  man  to  his  friends.  Gifted 
with  a  happy  temperament,  with  that  cheerful 
balance  of  thought  and  feeling  which  begets  the 
sympathy  which  prevents  bitter  animosity,  he 
lived  through  the  sharpest  struggles  of  our  poli 
tics,  not  without  interest,  but  without  bitterness, 
and  with  the  tenderest  respect  of  every  party. 

His  tastes,  and  talents,  and  habits  were  all 
those  of  the  literary  man.  In  earlier  life,  Secre 
tary  to  the  Legation  in  London,  and  afterwards 
Minister  to  Spain,  he  used  the  opportunities  of 
his  position  not  for  personal  advancement,  nor 
for  any  political  object  whatever,  but  for  pure 
literary  advantage.  And  it  was  given  to  him, 
first  of  our  authors,  to  invest  the  American  land 
scape  with  the  charm  of  imagination  and  tra 
dition.  Curiously  enough,  he  did  not  evoke 
this  spell  from  the  grave  chronicles  of  religious 
zeal  in  New  England,  whose  gloomy  romance 
Hawthorne  has  wielded  with  power  so  wreird, 
nor  from  the  gay  cavalier  society  of  Virginia, 
but  from  the  element  of  our  national  settlement 
which  seemed  the  least  promising  of  all — the 
Dutch. 

So  great  is  the  power  and  so  exquisite  the 
skill  with  which  this  was  done,  that  his  genius 
has  colored  history.  We  all  see  the  Dutch  as 
Irving  painted  them.  When  we  speak  of  our 
doughty  Governor  Stuyvesant,  whom  we  all 
know,  we  mean  not  the  Governor  of  the  histo 
ries,  but  of  Diedrick  Knickerbocker.  And  so 
the  entire  Hudson  river,  from  Communipaw, 
upon  the  Jersey  shore  of  the  Bay,  along  the 
Highlands  and  beyond  the  Catskill,  owes  its 
characteristic  romance  to  the  touch  of  the  same 
imagination. 


*  A  copyright  article,  reprinted,  by  the  courtesy  of  the  pub 
lishers,  from  Harpers  Weekly,  Dec.  17, 1859. 

Iv 


IKVING  TRAITS. 


That  this  power  should  have  been  no  less  in 
the  treatment  of  Spanish  legend,  shows  its  genu 
ine  quality  as  high,  poetic  imagination.  That 
the  same  man  should  have  written  the  Knicker 
bocker  History,  Rip  Van  Winkle,  and  Ichabod 
Crane,  and  then  the  Chronicles  of  the  Alhambra, 
and  the  Legends  of  Granada,  shows  only  that  if 
his  power  were  versatile,  it  was  versatile  not 
because  it  was  talent,  but  genius. 

And  to  this  various  excellence  in  seizing  the 
essential  romance  of  the  Dutch  and  Spanish  ge 
nius,  we  must  add  that  he  was  not  less  fortunate 
in  the  English.  The  Sketch  Book  and  Brace- 
bridge  Hall  are  the  most  exquisite  pictures  of 
characteristic  English  life  in  literature.  What 
they  delineate  is  constantly  hinted  in  English 
works,  but  nowhere  else  is  it  so  affectionately 
and  fully  elaborated.  It  is  the  poetic  side  of  that 
burly  dogmatist,  John  Bull,  which  is  the  secret 
charm  of  these  books.  They  are  full  of  a  breezy 
heartiness,  an  unsophisticated  honesty,  a  cordial 
reverence  for  traditions  in  themselves  interesting, 
the  flower  and  beauty  of  conservatism.  There 
are  hints  and  implications  of  it  all  through  the 
Spectator  and  Tattler,  and  the  early  essayists ; 
in  Goldsmith,  too  ;  but  nowhere  among  English 
authors  until  long  after  Irving's  works,  and  then 
in  the  Christmas  chapters  of  Pickwick,  and  gen 
erally  in  the  Holiday  tales  of  Dickens. 

Is  it  too  fanciful  to  find  this  susceptibility  of 
genius  to  national  individuality  in  Irving's  histo 
ries?  to  suppose  that  it  is  evident  in  the  method 
and  atmosphere  of  the  Columbus,  as  contrasted 
with  that  of  the  Washington? 

It  is  fair  to  lay  the  more  stress  upon  this,  be 
cause  Irving's  genius  suffers  in  public  estimation 
as  Washington's  does,  from  its  very  symmetry. 
Disproportion  gives  an  impression  of  strength, 
but  an  Egyptian  temple  was  no  more  enduring 
than  a  Grecian,  although  the  Egyptian  architec 
ture  looks  as  if  rooted  in  the  earth,  and  the 
Grecian  as  if  ready  to  float  off  into  the  blue  sky. 
So  in  any  direction,  the  ardent,  passionate  tem 
perament  seems  to  be  more  pronounced  than  the 
balanced  and  serene. 

How  Irving  had  grown  into  the  public  heart 
and  life!  It  was  like  the  love  of  England  for 
Walter  Scott.  The  word  Knickerbocker,  or  his 
own  name,  had  scarcely  less  vogue  than  the 
word  Waverley.  It  greets  us  everywhere,  and 
is  not  the  fashion  of  a  day,  but  the  habit  of  love 
and  reverence.  And  so,  foretasting  that  immor 
tality  of  affection  in  which  his  memory  is  and 
will  be  cherished,  his  many  and  various  tasks 
fulfilled,  his  last  great  work  done,  ripe  with 
years  and  honor,  and  entirely  unspoiled  by  the 
world  which  he  loved,  and  which  loved  him,  the 
good  old  man  died  as  quietly  as  he  had  lived, 
ceased  without  pain  or  struggle  from  the  world 

Ivi 


in  which  lie  had  never  caused  the  one  nor  suf 
fered  from  the  other. 

And  when  his  death  was  known,  there  was  no 
class  of  men  who  more  sincerely  deplored  him 
than  those  of  his  own  vocation.  The  older  au 
thors  felt  that  a  friend,  not  a  rival — the  younger 
that  a  father,  had  gone.  There  is  not  a  young 
literary  aspirant  in  the  country  who,  if  he  ever 
personally  met  Irving,  did  not  hear  from  him  the 
kindest  words  of  sympathy,  regard,  and  encour 
agement.  There  is  none  of  the  older  rank  who, 
knowing  him,  did  not  love  him.  He  belonged 
to  no  clique,  no  party  in  his  own  profession  more 
than  in  any  other  of  the  great  interests  of  life; 
and  that  not  by  any  wilful  independence,  or  neu 
trality  armed  against  all  comers,  but  by  the  natu 
ral  catholicity  of  his  nature. 

On  the  day  of  his  burial,  unable  to  reach  Tar- 
rytown  in  time  for  the  funeral,  I  came  down  the 
shore  of  the  river  he  loved.  As  we  darted  and 
wound  along,  the  Catskills  were  draped  in  sober 
gray  mist,  not  hiding  them,  but  wreathing,  and 
folding,  and  lingering,  as  if  the  hills  were  hung 
with  sympathetic,  but  not  unrelieved  gloom. 
Yet  far  away  towards  the  south,  the  bank  on 
which  his  home  lay,  was  Sunnyside  still,  for  the 
sky  was  cloudless  and  soft  with  serene  sunshine. 
I  could  not  but  remember  his  last,  words  to  me 
more  than  a  year  ago,  when  his  book  was  fin-, 
ished  and  his  health  was  failing,  "I  am  getting 
ready  to  go  ;  I  am  shutting  up  my  doors  and 
windows."  And  I  could  not  but  feel  that  they 
were  all  open  now,  and  bright  with  the  .light  of 
eternal  morning. 


WASHINGTON   IRVING.* 

BY  FREDERICK  S.  COZZENS. 

u  WASHINGTON  IRVING  is  dead  !" 

The  word  passed  in  whispers  through  the 
train,  as  it  rolled  noisily  along  the  banks  of  his 
beloved  river — beside  the  very  trees  that  fringed 
Sunnyside. 

And  within  that  hallowed  ground,  Earth's 
Greatest  Favorite  lay  silent. 

Who  can  mourn  for  him?  Not  one!  We  may 
mourn  for  ourselves, — for  what  we  have  lost  in 
him  ;  it  was  fitting  that  his  life  should  have 
such  a  close ;  that  his  gentle  spirit  was  not  taxed 
with  pain,  nor  did  dissolution  advance  with  lin 
gering  pace.  But  when  the  labor  of  his  life  was 
accomplished,  and  he  rested,  Death,  gently  as  a 
child,  drew  aside  his  curtains  of  repose,  saluted 

*  Reprinted,  by   the   courteous  permission  of  Mr.  Bonner, 
from  The  New  York  Ledger,  Dec.  17,  1859. 


MK.  COZZENS'  SKETCH. 


him  with  a  kiss,  and  said,  Awake,  for  it  is  morn 
ing! 

I  count  it  one  of  the  greatest  privileges  to 
have  known  Mr.  Irving  personally.  Not  from 
that  idle  vanity  which  too  often  leads  the  hum 
bler  writer  to  claim  acquaintance  with  the  most 
renowned  in  the  field  of  letters;  nor  from  any 
desire  to  repeat  his  private  conversations  in  the 
public  ear;  nor  yet  to  gather  serviceable  hints 
that  might  be  useful  hereafter;  nor  yet  to  task 
his  courtesy  with  that  delicate  appeal  to  his  crit 
icism  which,  under  the  disguise  of  advice,  cov 
ets  the  latent  compliment;  but  simply  because 
his  genial  and  benevolent  nature  was  such  that 
it  inspired  the  tendered  and  the  truest  emotions. 
It  is  not  easy  to  express  what  I  mean,  but  those 
who  knew  him  best  will  understand  me. 

If  to  convey  the  peculiar  grace  that  his  pres 
ence  inspired,  be  beyond  the  power  of  descrip 
tion,  yet  its  influence  upon  others  is  less  difficult 
to  represent.  In  his  household,  affection  seemed 
to  prevade  the  very  atmosphere.  The  kindliest, 
the  tenderest  language,  to  each  and  to  all ;  the 
joyous  welcome  that  awaited  a  distant  relative 
visiting  Sunnyside;  the  quiet,  but  constant  care 
manifested  for  stranger  guests  ;  the  happy,  tran 
quil  face  of  an  elder  brother ;  the  cheerful, 
"  pleased  alacrity,"  of  the  servants  ;  all  seemed 
the  very  reflex  of  such  a  man  : — so  good,  so  true, 
so  modest,  so  eminent. 

"  It  seems,"  said  a  lady  after  a  visit  to  Wash 
ington  Irving's  family,  "as  though  I  had  been  in 
heaven  for  a  little  while." 

I  do  not  misdoubt  much  that  a  letter  from 
Washington  Irving  is  the  treasured  possession  of 
almost  every  decent  writer,  known  or  unknown, 
in  America.  I  have  seen  many  such ;  not  ad 
dressed  always  to  the  author  personally,  but 
written  sidewise,  recommending  him  to  editors 
of  magazines,  or  to  publishers;  and  sometimes, 
a  right  out  and  out  note  of  brief  encourage 
ment ; —  bidding  the  youthful  aspirant  God 
speed !  and  saying  such  words,  as  a  true  man 
could  say,  in  such  a  matter.  And  let  any, 
whether  u  despondency  weigh  down  their  flut 
tering  pinions,"  or  heartless  adulation  terrify 
them,  take  up  their  Irving  letter!  Up  or  down, 
it  will  bring  them  to  the  true  level ;  if  as  right 
fully  read,  as  rightfully  written. 

We  cannot  think  him  dead,  whose  words, 
whose  tones,  and  accents  yet  linger  in  the  ears  of 
the  living. 

But  when  these  recollections  fade  and  with 
er;  when,  link  by  link,  the  associates  of  his  life 
time  separate  from  life,  yet  will  his  enduring 
memory  survive.  What  he  will  be,  requires 
neither  the  voice  of  prophet  or  commentator  to 
tell ;  what  he  was,  is  this — Not  one  man  of  all 
human  kind  so  beloved  as  he. 
8 


It  is  a  very  common  belief  that  what  is  easily 
read,  was  as  easily  written.  But  the  profound- 
est  research  of  the  student  fails  to  explain  sim 
plicity  of  style.  It  is  not  difficult  to  employ 
technical  phrases,  or  to  press  into  the  service  the 
unusual  diction  current  with  transcendentalists  ; 
but  that  language  by  which  heart  speaks  to 
heart,  the  touch  of  nature  which  makes  the 
whole  world  kin,  lies  beyond  the  cunning  of  the 
most  acute  analyst.  This  is  the  art  that  will 
survive  the  test  of  translation.  Xeed  I  repeat, 
what  has  been  so  often  said — u  the  name  of 
Irving  is  an  honored  household  word  in  Spain, 
rivalled  only  by  that  of  her  own  Cervantes." 

How  many  proofs  of  such  recognition  might 
be  recalled !  "  When  I  travelled  through  Spain," 
said  a  dear  friend,  u  the  best  passport  I  had  was 
that  I  was  a  countryman  of  Washington  Irving. 
When  I  went  to  Granada,  old  Mateo,  '  Son  of 
the  Alhambra,'  ceased  dancing  the  bolero  writh 
his  newly-married  fourth  wife,  that  he  might 
talk  with  me  of  his  honored  patron."  And  with 
equal  affection  did  the  master  of  Wolfert's  Roost 
draw  forth  that  yellow  silk  scarf,  knitted  by  the 
fingers  of  his  faithful  servitor,  and  relate  with 
grateful,  kindling  modesty,  that  his  old  friend  in 
Granada  had  not  forgotten  him.  u  He  thinks," 
said  Irving,  u  that  gastric  complaints  are  danger 
ous  in  this  climate  ;  and  so  he  warns  me  not  to 
expose  myself  to  the  air  without  this  protector  !" 
Whereupon  he  wound  the  yellow  scarf  around 
his  waist,  not  without  a  cogent  twinkle  of  humor 
in  his  eye,  but  with  a  loving  remembrance  be 
hind  all  that. 

So,  too,  we  may  recall  that  reminiscence  of 
Lord  Byron,  stumping  through  the  hall  of  his 
Italian  palace,  to  meet  his  American  guests,  and 
with  the  first  salutation  saying,  "I  have  just 
read  Bracehridge  Hall;  has  your  countryman, 
Washington  Irving,  written  any  thing  since?  for 
!  whatever  he  writes  I  have  a  great  desire  to 
read."  And  in  travelling  through  England,  late 
ly,  when  my  slouched  hat  betrayed  that  I  was 
an  American  citizen,  twice  in  a  day's  journey 
was  that  beloved  name  the  subject  of  conversa 
tion.  It  was  from  the  inquiry  of  strangers  that 
I  felt  I  was  his  countryman.  I  do  not  know 
whether  or  not  I  felt  prouder  because  Irving 
was  an  American,  or  whether  or  not  I  did  not 
feel  prouder  myself,  as  an  American,  because  of 
him. 

The  ingenuous  modesty  which,  in  so  eminent 
a  degree,  was  his  peculiar  attribute,  added  a 
charm  to  every  action  of  his  life.  The  honors 
which  public  men  so  earnestly  covet,  he  appear 
ed  to  avoid  ;  fulfilling  the  duties  of  his  profes 
sion,  and  shrinking  from  the  applause  so  faith 
fully  and  so  honestly  earned.  -It  Avas  not  unusual 
for  him  to  coincide  with  the  most  adverse  and 

Ivii 


ANECDOTES. 


injurious  criticisms.  In  one  of  his  pleasantest 
Sunnyside  letters  he  speaks  of  "that  self-criti 
cism  which  is  apt  to  beset  me  and  cuff  me  down 
at  the  end  of  a  work,  when  the  excitement  of 
composition  is  over."  Thus,  with  a  kind  word 
of  encouragement  for  every  one,  he  was  "  forget 
ful  only  of  himself."  When  his  faithful  physi 
cian  and  friend,  Dr.  Peters,  told  him,  fifteen 
months  since,  that  he  had  a  subtle  disease  that 
might  be  fatal  at  any  moment — an  enlargement 
of  the  heart — his  only  reply  was,  "  Do  not  tell  it 
to  the  family." 

If,  while  speaking  reverently  of  Irving,  I  allude 
to  that  gentle  play  of  humor  which  illuminated 
liis  conversation,  I  do  so  with  a  full  sense  of  the 
impropriety  of  introducing  so  subtle  an  element 
in  obituary.  But  when  we  speak  of  Irving, 
when,  we  recall  him,  as  he  lived,  and  moved,  and 
spoke,  surely  this  must  not  be  forgotten.  Other 
men — famous,  wise,  but  not  so  great  as  he,  had 
learned  the  trick  of  dignity,  and  knew  its  value  ; 
but  a  kind  word,  a  felicitous  expression,  that 
seemed  to  couple  a  smile  and  a  tear,  that  smooth 
ed  the  asperities  of  life,  and  awakened  all  its 
gentlest  amenities,  from  Washington  Irving  was 
like  a  sunbeam !  It  broke  forth  amid  the  clouds, 
and  its  mellow  effulgence  lightened  the  path  of 
the  listener  for  that,  and  for  many  a  day. 

And  when  the  volume  of  his  life  was  closed, 
so  did  grace  and  peace  follow  his  footsteps. 
Bidding  farewell  to  those  for  whom  he  had 
lived,  he  retired  to  rest! 

And  the  simple  record  of  the  end  of  a  life  so 
renowned,  is  sweet  as  the  record  of  the  life  it 
self.  Placing  one  hand  upon  his  heart,  and  the 
other  upon  the  book-table  that  had  been  so  long 
his  midnight  companion,  he  sank  down  upon  his 
knees,  and  with  the  arms  of  affection  supporting 
his  honored  head,  saw  the  first  dawn  of  a  celes 
tial  morning. 

Not  in  the  cheerless  winter,  but  in  the  Indian 
summer  of  his  renown. 

Is  it  well,  is  it  well  with  thee,  beloved  master? 
Not  with  mourning  and  funereal  symbols;  not 
with  the  pomp  of  public  obsequies ;  not  with  the 
heartless  array  of  alien  magnificence  ;  but  deck 
ed  with  flowers,  wreathed  with  laurel  garlands, 
followed  by  those  who  knew  him  best  and  loved 
him  most,  the  hearse  bore  the  beloved  remains 
of  Washington  Irving  towards  that  valley  which, 
to  the  end  of  time,  will  remain  consecrated  by 
his  genius. 

Chestnut  Cottage,  Dec.  2, 1859. 


Iviii 


TABLE  TALK. 

From  a  sketch,  "A  Day  with  Washington  Irving."* 
BY  JAMES  GRANT  "WILSON. 

As  we  sat  at  his  board  in  the  dining-room, 
from  which  is  seen  the  majestic  Hudson  with  its 
myriad  of  sailing-vessels  and  steamers,  and  heard 
him  dilate  upon  the  bygone  days  arid  the  giants 
that  were  in  the  earth  then — of  his  friends,  Scott 
and  Byron,  of  Moore  and  Lockhart,  of  Professor 
Wilson  and  the  Ettrick  Shepherd,  and  as  the  old 
man  pledged  the  health  of  his  kinsfolk  and  guest, 
it  seemed  as  if  a  realm  of  romance  were  sud 
denly  opened  before  us.  He  told  us  of  his  first 
meeting  with  Sir  Walter  Scott,  so  graphically 
described  in  his  charming  essay  on  Abbotsford ; 
and  his  last,  in  London,  when  the  great  Scotch 
man  was  on  his  way  to  the  Continent  with  the 
vain  hope  of  restoring  his  health,  broken  down 
by  his  gigantic  efforts  to  leave  an  untarnished 
name,  and  a  fantastic  mansion  and  the  broad 
acres  that  surrounded  it,  to  a  long  line  of  Scotts 
of  Abbotsford,  with  various  anecdotes  of  those 
above  mentioned,  and  other  notables  of  bygone 
days. 

Mr.  Irving  related  with  great  glee  an  anecdote 
of  James  Hogg,  the  "Ettrick  Shepherd,"  who  in 
one  of  his  early  visits  to  Edinburgh,  was  invited 
by  Sir  Walter  Scott  to  dine  with  him  at  his 
mansion  in  Oastle-street.  Quite  a  number  of 
the  literati  had  been  asked  to  meet  the  rustic 
poet  at  dinner.  When  Hogg  entered  the  draw 
ing-room,  Lady  Scott,  being  in  delicate  health, 
was  reclining  on  a  sofa.  After  being  presented, 
he  took  possession  of  another  sofa  opposite  to 
her  and  stretched  himself  thereupon  at  full 
length,  for  as  he  afterwards  said,  "  I  thought  I 
could  do  no  wrong  to  copy  the  lady  of  the 
house."  The  dress  of  the  "Ettrick  Shepherd" 
at  that  time  was  precisely  that  in  which  any 
ordinary  herdsman  attends  cattle  to  the  market, 
and  as  his  hands,  moreover,  bore  most  legible 
marks  of  a  recent  sheepshearing,  the  lady  of  the 
house  did  not  observe  with  perfect  equanimity 
the  novel  usage  to  which  her  chintz  was  ex 
posed.  Hogg,  however,  remarked  nothing  of  all 
this — dined  heartily  and  drank  freely,  and  by 
jest,  anecdote,  and  song,  afforded  great  merri 
ment  to  all  the  company.  As  the  wine  operated, 
his  familiarity  increased  and  strengthened;  from 
"  Mr.  Scott"  he  advanced  to  "  Shirra"  (Sheriff), 
and  thence  to  "  Scott,"  "  Walter,"  and  "  Wat- 
tie,"  until  at  length  he  fairly  convulsed  the 
whole  party  by  addressing  Mrs.  Scott  as  "  Char 
lotte." 

In  reply  to  our  inquiry  as  to  his  opinion  of 

*  The  Church  Record,  Chicago,  Illinois,  Dec.  15, 1S59. 


ICHABOD  CBANE. 


the  poets  of  the  present  day,  he  said,  u  I  ignore 
them  all.  I  read  no  poetry  written  since  By 
ron's,  Moore's,  and  Scott's." 


ANECDOTES.  * 

BY  FREDERICK  SAUNDERS. 

REFERRING  to  the  inimitable  story  of  Rip  Yan 
Winkle,  which  was  written,  with  other  produc 
tions,  while  the  author  resided  at  Kinderhook, 
opposite  Catskill,  it  is  not  a  little  remarkable  that 
it  should  have  proved  so  accurate  and  consistent 
in  its  local  details;  for  when  it  was  written,  he 
had  not  visited  the  mountains.  Some  time  after 
its  publication,  Mr.  Irving  was  on  a  visit  there 
for  the  first  time,  and,  as  is  usual,  the  guide 
pointed  out  to  him  the  scene  of  the  redoubtable 
and  drowsy  Dutchman.  He  also  led  him  to  the 
turn  in  the  road  at  the  entrance  to  a  deep  ravine, 
to  "  Rip  Van  Winkle's  House,"  over  the  entrance 
to  which  is  an  enormous  sign  representing  "  Rip  " 
as  he  awoke  from  his  long  "nap  "  in  the  Cats- 
kills,  lie  listened  to  the  rehearsal  of  his  own 
legend  with  exemplary  patience,  pleased  to  find 
his  imaginary  description  of  its  locality  so  singu 
larly  verified  by  fact.  He  quietly  retired  without 
revealing  himself  as  the  author.  As  an  evidence 
of  the  deep  hold  these  legends  have  taken  upon 
the  popular  mind,  it  may  be  mentioned  that  this 
cicerone  found  such  good  capital  to  be  made  out 
of  his  recital  of  the  story,  that,  with  the  view  of 
imparting  something  of  oracular  force  to  his  nar 
ration,  he  professed  himself  a  lineal  descendant  of 
the  veritable  Rip  Van  Winkle. 

******* 

Mr.  Irving  has  never  been  a  collector  in  the 
usual  acceptation  of  the  term ;  his  library  does 
not  contain  many  rare  or  curious  specimens  of 
bibliography;  it  consists  chiefly  of  standard  his 
torical  works  of  reference,  together  with  the  best 
of  the  usual  publications  of  the  day.  As  may  be 
supposed,  his  taste  in  books  is  fastidious  and  se 
lect.  We  noticed  a  long  series  of  the  works  of 
Scott,  his  favorite  contemporary  writer;  and  he 
had  the  last  production  of  Dickens  lying  open 


originally  brought  from  Melrose  Abbey,  by  Mrs. 
Fenwick,  a  friend  of  Irving's,  and  celebrated  in 
song  by  Burns.  This  lady  planted  it  at  Sunny- 
side,  and  it  now  spreads  over  a  large  portion  of 
the  picturesque  old  house.  It  is  very  luxuriant 
and  massive,  as  seen  from  the  exterior  of  the 
building,  and  one  of  the  objects  of  especial  pride 
and  value  from  its  associations.  In  course  of 
conversation,  Mr.  Irving  spoke  appreciatingly  of 
the  "  multitude  of  clever  authors  of  the  present 
day,"  instancing  some  of  the  most  prominent 
names ;  but,  he  added,  with  strong  emphasis, 
"  Dickens  is  immeasurably  above  his  contempo 
raries,  and  David  Copper/fold  is  his  master-pro 
duction."  Many  times  during  our  chat,  we  lis 
tened  to  the  delicious  carolling  of  the  birds  which 
haunt  these  sylvan  shades,  and  fill  the  air  with 
their  melody.  Mr.  Irving  said  he  could  not  ac 
count  for  it,  but  the  birds  seemed  fond  of  the 


place,  for  they  constantly  made   the 


vocal 


with  their  delicate  music.  They  also,  or  some 
other  little  fairies,  seemed  to  have  charmed  away 
from  the  spot  the  summer-haunting  mosquito, 
for  we  learned  to  our  surprise  they  never  made 
their  appearance  there.  Two  favorite  dogs  gam 
bolled  about  the  lawn,  or  stretched  themselves  at 
the  feet  of  their  master,  who  evidently  took 
pleasure  in  their  sportive  and  sprightly  move 
ments. 


ICHABOD  CRANE. 


A   LETTER   FROM   WASHINGTON   IRVING. 


.  pleasant  letter  of  reminiscences  appeared 
Kinderhook  Sentinel,  with  the  following 


Tins 
in  the 
introduction : 

"  We  have  been  favored  with  the  perusal  of  a 
letter  recently  written  by  Washington  Irving  to 
his  old  friend  Jesse  Merwin,  of  this  town — the 
veritable  '  Ichabod  Crane,'  whose  name  has  been 
immortalized  in  '  The  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow.' 
Having  been  kindly  permitted  to  transfer  this 
communication  to  our  columns,  we  cheerfully  do 
so,  unwilling  that  our  readers  should  be  deprived 
of  the  gratification  which  we  have  derived  from 


upon  his  table.  He  has  a  choice  assortment  ot  its  perusai.  We  trust  that  we  sha]1  not  incur  the 
foreign  authors— Mr.  Irving  being  an  excellent  displeasure  of  the  distinguished  writer,  in  bring- 
French,  German,  and  Spanish  scholar.  AVe  also  j  hhn  before  the  Wi  nor  be  considered  as 
saw  some  elegant  English  presentation  volumes,  ' 
together  with  some  fine  editions  of  the  classics. 


******* 
The  ivy  which  is  seen  trailing  over  his  study,  was 


vate  epistolary  intercourse.    As  for  the  'Old  Ad 


miral   of  the   Lake,'  of  piscatory  memory,   the 
redoubtable  'John  Moore,'  we  have  no  fears  to 
entertain  for  the  mention  made  of  him,  he  having 
*   From  a  paper  entitle,!  ••  Washington  Irving-his  Home    long  8inJ°  'shuffled  off  this  mortal  coil  '  and   his 

and  his  Works "  [  sceptre  having  passed  into  other  hands."1 

lix 


COCKLOFT  HALL. 


SXJNNYSIDE,  Feb.  15,  1S51. 


foi 


days  of  our  youth  and  folly.     I  trust  we  have 

You  must  excuse  me,  my  good  friend  Mervvin,    grown  wiser  and  better  since  then ;  we  certainly 

don't  think  we  could  rob 


•  suffering  your  letter  to  remain  so  long  unan-  j  have  grown  older.     I 
ered.     You  can  have  no  idea  how  many  letters   John  Moore's  fishing; 


1  have  to  answer,  besides  fagging  with  my  pen  at 
my  own  literary  tasks,  so  that  it  is  impossible  tor 
me  to  avoid  being  behindhand  in  my  correspond 
ence.  Your  letter  was  indeed  most  welcome — 
calling  up  as  it  did  the  recollection  of  pleasant 
days  passed  together,  in  times  long  since,  at  Judge 
Van  Ness's,  in  Kimlerhook.  Your  mention  of 
the  death  of  good  old  Dominie  Van  Ness,  recalls 
the  apostolic  zeal  with  which  he  took  our  little 
sinful  community  in  hand,  when  he  put  up  for  a 
day  or  two  at  the  Judge's,  and  the  wholesale  cas- 
tigation  he  gave  us  all  one  Sunday,  beginning 
with  the  two  country  belles,  who  came  fluttering 
into  the  school-house  during  the  sermon,  decked 
out  in  their  city  finery,  and  ending  with  the  Judge 
himself,  in  the  stronghold  of  his  own  mansion. 

How  soundly  he  gave  it  to  us  !  how  lie  peeled 
off  every  rag  of  self-righteousness  with  which  we 
tried  to  cover  ourselves,  and  laid  the  rod  on  the 
bare  backs  of  our  consciences!  The  good,  plain- 
spoken,  honest  old  man !  How  I  honored  him 
for  his  simple,  straightforward  earnestness;  his 
homely  sincerity  !  He  certainly  handled  us  with 
out  mittens ;  but  I  trust  we  are  all  certainly  the 
better  for  it.  How  different  he  was  from  the 
brisk,  dapper,  self-sufficient  little  apostle  who  can 
tered  up  to  the  Judge's  door  a  day  or  two  after; 
who  was  so  full  of  himself  that  he  had  no  thought 
to  bestow  on  our  religious  delinquencies ;  who 
did  nothing  but  boast  of  his  public  trials  of  skill 
in  argument  with  rival  preachers  of  other  denom 
inations,  and  how  he  had  driven  them  oft*  the 
tield  and  crowed  over  them.  You  must  remem 
ber  the  bustling,  self-confident  little  man,  with  a 
tin  trumpet  in  the  handle  of  his  riding-whip, 
with  which,  I  presume,  he  blew  the  trumpet  in 
Zion ! 

Do  you  remember  our  fishing  expedition,  in 
company  with  Congressman  Van  Allen,  to  the 
little  lake  a  few  miles  from  Kinderhook;  and 
John  Moore,  the  vagabond  admiral  of  the  lake, 
who  sat  crouched  in  a  heap,  in  the  middle 
of  his  canoe,  in  the  centre  of  the  lake,  with 
lishing-rods  stretched  out  in  every  direction, 
like  the  long  legs  of  a  spider  ?  And  do  you 
remember  our  piratical  prank,  when  we  made  up 
for  our  bad  luck  in  fishing  by  plundering  his  ca 
noe  of  its  tish  when  we  found  it  adrift  ?  And  do 
you  remember  how  John  Moore  came  splashing 
along  the  marsh  on  the  opposite  border  of  the 
lake,  roaring  at  us,  and  how  we  finished  our  frolic 
by  driving  off  and  leaving  the  Congressman  to 
John  Moore's  mercy,  tickling  ourselves  with  the 
idea  of  his  being  at  least  scalped  ? 

Ah,  well-a-day,  friend  Merwiu,  these  were  the 

Ix 


that  same  John  Moore,  and  the  anecdotes  you 
told  of  him,  gave  me  the  idea  of  a  vagabond  char 
acter,  Dirck  Schuyler,  in  my  Knickerbockers  His 
tory  of  New  York,  which  I  was  then  writing. 

You  tell  me  the  old  school-house  is  torn  down, 
and  a  new  one  built  in  its  place.  I  am  sorry  for 
it.  I  should  have  liked  to  tee  the  old  school- 
house  once  more,  where,  after  my  morning's  lit 
erary  task  was  over,  I  used  to  come  and  wait  for 
you  occasionally  until  school  was  dismissed,  and 
you  used  to  promise  to  keep  back  the  punishment 
of  some  little  tough,  broad-bottomed  Dutch  boy 
until  I  should  come,  for  my  amusement — but 
never  kept  your  promise.  I  don't  think  I  should 
look  with  a  friendly  eye  on  the  new  school-house, 
however  nice  it  might  be. 

Since  I  saw  you  in  New  York,  I  have  had  se 
vere  attacks  of  bilious  intermittent  fever,  which 
shook  me  terribly ;  but  they  cleared  out  my 
system,  and  I  have  ever  since  been  in  my  usual 
excellent  health,  able  to  mount  my  horse  and  gal 
lop  about  the  country  almost  as  briskly  as  when 
I  was  a  youngster.  Wishing  you  the  enjoyment 
of  the  same  inestimable  blessing,  and  begging  you 
to  remember  me  to  your  daughter  who  penned 
your  letter,  and  to  your  sou  whom  out  of  old 
kindness  and  companionship  you  have  named 
after  me,  I  remain  ever,  rny  old  friend,  yours  truly 
and  cordially, 


WASHINGTON  IKYING. 


Jesse  Merwin,  Esq. 


COCKLOFT 


HALL. 

* 


A    KEMINISCENCE. 

Ax  old  resident  of  Newark,  who  signs  himself 
K.  W.,  gives  to  the  Newark  Advertiser  some 
particulars  about  the  "  Cockloft  Hall,"  mentioned 
in  Irving's  Salmagundi.  The  original  building 
referred  to  under  that  title,  it  appears,  is  situ 
ated  on  the  Passaic  river,  between  Belleville  and 
Newark.  It  was  known  half  a  century  ago  as 
the  "  Gouverneur  Place,"  from  which  family  it 
descended  to  Mr.  Gouverneur  Kemble  (who  was 
present  at  Mr.  Irving's  funeral),  but  for  many 
years  it  was  rented  out  to  a  respectable  couple 
who  acted  as  host  and  hostess  to  Irving,  Paul- 
ding,  and  three  or  four  others  constituting  their 
coterie.  The  house  has  been  recently  improved, 
but  without  materially  altering  its  form  and  in 
ternal  arrangements.  The  Cockloft  summer- 
house  and  the  fish-pond  mentioned  by  Irving 

*  From  the  Evening  Post,  Dec.  12, 1359. 


IKYING  PORTRAITS. 


still  exist,  though  almost  in  ruins.  K.  W.  thus 
describes  the  appearance  of  the  summer-house 
as  lie  visited  it  in  August  last: 

"It  was  a  small  building,  standing  not  far 
from  the  river's  brink,  and  near  an  artificial 
basin  or  pond,  into  which,  as  the  tide  was  full, 
the  Passaic  was  pouring  some  of  its  surplus 
waters  through  a  narrow  sluice.  It  was  octago 
nal  in  shape,  about  eighteen  feet  in  diameter, 
containing  only  one  apartment,  with  a  door 
facing  the  river  on  the  east,  and  having  windows 
opening  towards  each  of  the  other  three  cardinal 
points.  It  was  built  of  stone,  and  had  been 
originally  weather-boarded,  although  most  of 
the  boards  had  fallen  off.  It  had  evidently  been 
constructed  with  great  care,  being  fully  plastered 
within  and  papered,  having  an  ornamental  cor 
nice  and  chair-board,  an  arched  doorway,  and 
cut  stone  steps, — all  indicating  a  fastidiousness  of 
finish  not  ordinarily  found  elsewhere  than  in 
dwellings ;  but  it  was  far  gone  towards  utter 
ruin,  the  window-sashes  being  all  out,  the  door 
gone,  and  the  mutilated  wood-work  showing  it 
to  be  a  resort  only  of  the  idle  and  the  vicious." 

The  "  Gouverneur  Place,"  or  Cockloft  Hall,  is 
at  present  occupied  by  Mr.  Winslow  L.  Whiting. 
Mr.  Irving,  in  a  letter  to  the  New  Jersey  His 
torical  Society,  some  time  since,  referring  to  the 
time  he  spent  at  this  place,  remarked  : — "  With 
Newark  are  associated  in  my  mind  many  pleas 
ant  recollections  of  early  days  and  of  social 
meetings  at  an  old  mansion  on  the  banks  of  the 
Passaic." 


IRVING  PORTRAITS.* 

Jtfr.  Irving' a  Letter  to  the  New  York  Mercantile 
Library  Association. 

OF  the  thousands  who  have  read  with  delight 
the  productions  of  Washington  Irving's  pen,  com 
paratively  few  have  any  correct  idea  of  his  per 
sonal  appearance.  Of  none  of  our  public  men 
have  so  few  portraits  been  taken,  at  least  of  late 
years.  The  correspondence  which  follows  gives 
the  reason  for  this  deficiency  : 

Irving  requested  to  Sit  for  his  Bust. 

CLINTON  HALL,  November  2,  1S54. 

My  Dear  Sir:  I  have  been  appointed,  by  my 
colleagues  in  the  Board  of  Direction  of  the  Mer 
cantile  Library  Association,  to  express  to  you 
their  earnest  desire  to  possess  some  appropriate 
and  enduring  memorial  of  the  author  of  The 

*  Frum  the  Evening  Post,  Nov.  80,  1859. 


Sketch  Boole  and  the  Father  of  American  Litera 
ture. 

The  presence  in  this  country  of  Mr.  Randolph 
Rogers,  formerly  a  merchants'  clerk  in  New  York, 
but  of  late  years  a  student  of  art  in  Italy  and 
now  a  sculptor  of  some  note,  has  suggested  to  a 
few  friends  of  the  institution  the  idea  of  embra 
cing  the  opportunity  to  secure,  if  possible,  for  the 
merchants'  clerks  of  this  city,  the  marble  bust  of 
Washington  Irving, — the  diplomatist,  the  scholar, 
and  the  author.  The  Mercantile  Library  Associ 
ation,  now  firmly  established  as  a  permanent  cen 
tre  of  moral  and  intellectual  influence  over  the 
young  men  of  this  metropolis  (having  a  member 
ship  of  nearly  six  thousand),  would  seem  to  be 
the  fitting  depository  of  such  a  work  of  art ;  and 
the  clerks  of  New  York,  who  have  always  paid 
their  willing  homage  to  the  genius  of  our  first 
great  writer,  may  with  reason  present  their  re 
quest  to  be  allowed  thus  to  honor  him,  who,  in 
the  dark  day  of  our  national  literature,  became 
our  Washington,  and  answered  triumphantly  for 
himself  and  for  his  country  the  taunt — u  Who 
reads  an  American  book  ?" 

Commending  the  subject  to  your  favorable  con 
sideration,  and  hoping  that  you  may  not  feel  com 
pelled  to  withhold  your  consent,  I  am,  my  dear 
sir,  very  respectfully  your  obedient  servant, 

FKAXK  W.  BALLAKD. 


Mr.  Irving's  Reply. 

SUNNYSIDE,  November  14,  1854. 

To  FRAXK  W.  BALLARD,  Esq.— My  Dear  Sir : 
I  cannot  but  feel  deeply  and  gratefully  sensible 
of  the  honor  done  me  by  the  Mercantile  Library 
Association  in  soliciting  a  marble  bust  of  me  to 
be  placed  in  their  new  establishment.  I  am  well 
aware  of  the  talents  of  Mr.  Randolph  Rogers  as  a 
sculptor,  and  should  most  willingly  stand  to  him 
for  a  bust,  but  I  have  some  time  since  come  to  a 
fixed  determination  to  stand  or  sit  for  no  more 
likenesses,  either  in  painting  or  sculpture,  and 
have  declined  repeated  and  urgent  solicitatioss 
on  the  subject.  The  last  one  I  declined  was  from 
Mr.  William  B.  Astor,  who  wished  it  for  the 
Astor  Library.  I  offered  him,  however,  the  use 
of  a  model  of  a  bust  executed  some  years  since  by 
Mr.  Ball  Hughes,  and  which  at  the  time  was  con 
sidered  by  my  friends  an  excellent  likeness.  Of 
this  Mr.  Astor  had  a  copy  made  (by,  I  think, 
Mr.  Brown,  of  Brooklyn),  which  is  now  in  the 
Astor  Library.  Should  the  Mercantile  Library 
Association  be  disposed  to  have  a  similar  copy 
made,  the  model  by  Mr.  Ball  Hughes,  which  is  in 
the  possession  of  one  of  my  relatives,  is  at  their 
disposition. 

In  concluding,  I  would  observe  that,  viewing 
the  nature  and  circumstances  of  your  institution 

Ixi 


PUBLIC  DINNERS. 


and  its  identification  with  the  dearest  interest  and 
sympathies  of  my  native  city,  I  do  not  know  any 
one  from  which  an  application  of  the  kind  you 
make  would  be  more  intensely  gratifying. 

Accept,  my  dear  sir,  my  thanks  for  the  kind 
expressions  of  your  letter,  and  believe  me,  very 
respectfully,  your  obliged  and  humble  servant, 
WASHINGTON  IRVING. 


MR.  IRVING' S  OBJECTION  TO  PUBLIC 
DINNERS,  o 

THE  last  time  we  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
Mr.  Irving  was  at  the  Publishers'  Festival  in  New 
York,  in  the  autumn  of  1855.  All  who  were 
present  on  that  occasion  will  remember  how 
fresh  was  his  appearance,  and  how  genial  his 
manner,  and  with  what  a  hearty  welcome  he 
greeted  the  friends,  old  and  young,  who  thronged 
around  him.  Among  the  former  was  our  towns 
man,  Mr.  Moses  Thomas,  and  in  reference  to  the 
interview  between  these  gentlemen,  the  American 
PMwhers1  Circular  afterwards  said  : 

"One  of  the  interesting  incidents  at  the  recent 
festival  was  the  meeting  of  Washington  Irving 
with  his  old  friend,  Moses  Thomas,  the  veteran 
and  much  respected  ex-publisher  of  Philadelphia. 
Mr.  Irving,  in  his  younger  days,  had  been  inti 
mate  with  Mr.  Thomas,  and  cherished  for  him  the 
highest  regard  ;  but  it  so  happened  that  they  had 
not  met  for  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century." 

A  month  or  two  later  Mr.  Irving  addressed  the 
following  letter  to  Mr.  Thomas,  which  we  are 
tempted  to  reprint,  as  at  once  showing  his  disin 
clination  to  public  display,  and  his  cordial  recog 
nition  of  the  claims  of  private  friendship. 

"ScNNYSiDE,  December  14, 1S55. 

"  My  Dear  Thomas  :  I  thank  you  heartily  for 
your  kind  and  hospitable  invitation  to  your  house, 
which  I  should  be  glad  to  accept  did  I  propose 
attending  the  Godey  complimentary  dinner  ;  but 
the  annoyance  I  suffer  at  dinners  of  this  kind,  in 
having  to  attempt  speeches,  or  bear  compliments 
in  silence,  has  made  me  abjure  them  altogether. 
The  publishers'  festival,  at  which  I  had  the  great 
pleasure  of  meeting  you,  was  an  exception  to  my 
rule,  but  only  made  on  condition  that  I  would 
not  be  molested  by  extra  civilities. 

u  I  regret  that  on  that  occasion  we  were  sepa 
rated  from  each  other,  and  could  not  sit  together 
and  talk  of  old  times ;  however,  I  trust  we  shall 
have  a  future  opportunity  of  so  doing.  I  wish, 
when  you  visit  New  York,  you  Avould  take  a  run 


*  From  the  Philadelphia  North  American,  Nov.  30, 1859. 

Ixii 


up  to  Sunnyside  ;  the  cars  set  you  down  within 
ten  minutes'  walk  of  my  house,  where  my 
'  women-kind '  will  receive  you  (figuratively 
speaking)  with  open  arms ;  and  my  dogs  will  not 
dare  to  bark  at  you.  Yours,  ever  very  truly, 
"  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

"  Moses  Thomas,  Esq." 


ANECDOTE  OF  WASHINGTON  IRVING.* 

A  FRIEND  of  ours,  who  occupies  a  lordly  man 
sion  in  Twenty-ninth-street,  near  Fifth  Avenue, 
was  whilom  a  contractor  for  building  that  sec 
tion  of  the  Croton  Aqueduct  which  passed 
through  Tarrytown.  Soon  after  he  had  erected 
a  rude  building  for  the  reception  of  the  tools  and 
of  the  workmen,  and  to  afford  himself  a  tempo 
rary  shelter  while  engaged  in  his  responsible 
duties,  an  old  gentleman,  plainly  dressed  and  of 
exceeding  unpretending  manners,  presented  him 
self  one  day  and  commenced  a  conversation  with 
our  friend.  A  great  many  questions  were  asked, 
naturally  suggested  by  the  then  new  enterprise 
of  supplying  New  York  city  with  water,  and 
after  a  visit  of  an  hour  or  so,  the  old  gentleman 
quietly  departed.  A  few  days  afterwards,  accom 
panied  by  two  ladies,  he  again  visited  the  head 
quarters  of  our  friend,  and  entered  into  a  more 
detailed  conversation,  seemingly  intent  upon 
finding  out  all  that  was  to  be  learned  about  the 
proposed  aqueduct.  These  visits  finally  became 
a  regular  affair,  and  were  continued  twice  a 
week,  for  a  period  of  some  six  months.  The 
conversations  were  always  confined  to  local  sub 
jects,  and  not  a  remark  escaped  from  the  lips  of 
the  visitor  which  was  calculated  to  inspire  curi 
osity,  or  suggest  that  he  was  other  than  some 
plain  good-natured  person,  with  plenty  of  time 
on  his  hands,  who  desired  to  while  away  an  hour 
or  two  in  commonplace  chit-chat.  In  course  of 
time  our  friend  finished  his  labors  at  Tarrytown, 
but  occasionally  met  his  old  friend  on  the  little 
steamers  that  serve  to  connect  our  suburbs  with 
the  heart  of  the  city.  One  day,  while  travelling 
along  the  Hudson,  and  busily  engaged  in  conver 
sation  with  the  old  gentleman,  the  steamer  sud 
denly  commenced  pealing  its  bell,  and  made  such 
a  racket  that  our  friend  left  his  place,  and  hunt 
ing  up  the  captain,  asked  him  a  what  all  that 
noise  was  about?" 

"Why,"  replied  that  functionary,  "we  are 
opposite  Sunnyside,  and  having  Washington 
Irving  on  board,  by  this  alarm  his  servant  will 
be  able  to  meet  him  at  his  landing  with  a  car 
riage." 

*  From  the  Spirit  of  the  Times,  Dec.  3, 1859. 


LITER AKT  COMMISSIONS. 


Onr  friend,  in  great  enthusiasm,  exclaimed, 
"Washington  Irving!  A0  on  board ;  why,  point 
him  out  to  me;  there  is  no  man  living  whom  I 
would  more  like  to  see." 

At  this  demonstration,  the  captain  looked 
quite  surprised,  and  remarked,  "Why,  sir,  you 
just  left  Washington  Irving's  company,  and  from 
the  number  of  times  I  have  seen  you  in  familiar 
conversation  with  him  on  this  boat,  I  supposed 
you  were  one  of  his  most  intimate  friends." 

The  astonishment  of  our  friend  may  be  faintly 
imagined  when  he  discovered  that  for  more  than 
a  half  year,  twice  a  week  he  had  had  a  long  con 
versation  with  Washington  Irving,  a  person  with 
whom,  more  than  any  rnan  living,  he  desired  a 
personal  introduction. 


TWO  POEMS  BY  WASHINGTON  IRVING.  * 

THE  following  is  the  little  poem  alluded  to  in 
the  "Memoranda,"  descriptive  of  a  painting  by 
Gilbert  Stuart  Newton : 

An  old  philosopher  is  reading,  in  this  picture,  from 
a  folio,  to  a  young  beauty  who  is  asleep  on  a  chair  on 
the  other  side  of\he  table.  It  is  a  fine  summer's  day, 
and  the  warm  atmosphere  is  let  in  through  the  open 
casement.  Irving  wrote  the  lines  at  his  friend  New 
ton's  request. 

THE  DULL  LECTUEE. 

Frostie  age,  frostie  age, 

Vain  all  thy  learning ; 
Drowsie  page,  drowsie  page, 

Evermore  turning. 

Young  head  no  lore  will  heed, 
Young  heart's  a  reckless  rover, 

Young  beauty,  while  you  read, 
Sleeping  dreams  of  absent  lover. 


THE  FALLS  OF  THE  PASSAIC. 

In  a  wild,  tranquil  vale,  fringed  with  forests  of  green, 
Where  nature  had  fashion' d  a  soft,  sylvan  scene, 
The  retreat  of  the  ringdove,  the  haunt  of  the  deer, 
Passaic  in  silence  roll'd  gentle  and  clear. 

No  grandeur  of  prospect  astonish' d  the  sight; 
No  abruptness  sublime  mingled  awe  with  delight ; 
Here  the  wild  flow'ret  blossom'd,  the  elm  proudly 

waved, 
And  pure  was  the  current  the  green  bank  that  laved. 

But  the  spirit  that  ruled  o'er  the  thick  tangled  wood, 
And  deep  in  its  gloom  fix'd  its  murky  abode — 
Who  loved  the  wild  scene  that  the  whirlwinds  deform, 
And  gloried  in  thunder,  and  lightning,  and  storm — 

All  flush' d  from  the  tumult  of  battle  he  came, 
Where  the  red-men  encounter' d  the  children  of  flame, 
While  the  noise  of  the  war-whoop  still  rang  in  his  ears, 
And  the  fresh-bleeding  scalp  as  a  trophy  he  bears  : 

*  From  The  New  York  Book  of  Poetry,  edited  by  Charles 
Fenno  Iloffman. 


With  a  glance  of  disgust  he  the  landscape  survey'd, 
With  its  fragrant  wild  flowers,  its  wide-waving  shade  ; 
Where  Passaic  meanders  through  margins  of  green, 
So  transparent  its  waters,  its  surface  serene. 

He  rived  the  green  hills,  the  wild  woods  he  laid  low; 
He  taught  the  pure  stream  in  rough  channels  to  flow; 
He  rent  the  rude  rock,  the  steep  precipice  gave, 
And  hurl'd  down  the  chasm  the  thundering  wave. 

Countless  moons  have  since  roll'd  in  the  long  lapse  of 

time — 

Cultivation  has  soften' d  those  features  sublime — 
The  axe  of  the  white  man  has  lighten'd  the  shade, 
And  dispell'd  the  deep  gloom  of  the  thicketed  glade. 

But  the  stranger  still  gazes,  with  wondering  eye, 
On  the  rocks  rudely  torn,  and  groves  mounted  on  high ; 
Still  loves  on  the  cliffs  dizzy  borders  to  roam, 
Where  the  torrent  leaps  headlong  embosom'd  in  foam. 


AMERICAN  LITERARY  COMMISSIONS  IN 
LONDON  IN   1822. 

A  Letter  from  Mr.  Irving  to  Mr.  John  E.  Hall,  Editor 
of  the  "  Port-Folio^  now  first  printed. 

LONDON,  June  30, 1822. 

MY  DEAR  SIR: — I  have  received  your  letter 
of  April  29th.  The  precious  letter  to  which  you 
allude  came  to  hand  when  I  was  in  France,  and 
I  replied  to  it  at  some  length,  but  it  appears  my 
reply  never  reached  you.  The  situation  in  which 
I  was  at  the  time,  so  far  from  London,  put  it  out 
of  my  power  to  render  you  the  services  you  re 
quired.  The  proof-sheets  of  the  Life  of  Anacreon 
which  you  say  you  forwarded,  never  were  re 
ceived. 

I  have  talked  with  Carpenter  about  your  pro 
posed  work.  He  says  the  translation  by  Moore 
could  not  be  published  in  the  work  without  an 
infringement  of  his  copyright,  which  of  course 
he  could  not  permit.  He  says,  however,  that  if 
the  Life  were  well  executed,  so  as  to  be  enter 
taining  and  attractive,  he  should  have  no  objec 
tion  to  treat  with  you  about  it ;  but  that  at  the 
present  day,  it  is  necessary  that  a  work  of  this 
kind  should  be  executed  in  a  very  masterly  man 
ner,  as  the  age  is  extremely  erudite  and  critical 
in  such  matters. 

I  think  if  you  have  the  MSS.  or  printed  sheets, 
you  had  better  transmit  them  to  Mr.  Miller  and 
let  him  act  as  your  agent  with  Carpenter,  or  any 
other  bookseller  that  may  be  disposed  to  under 
take  the  thing.  Of  course,  if  Carpenter  is  not 
the  man,  you  will  have  to  substitute  other  trans 
lations  instead  of  Moore's,  which  would  be  a 
disadvantage  to  the  work. 

As  to  well-written  articles  concerning  Amer 
ica,  there  are  various  magazines  that  would  be 
glad  to  receive  contributions  of  the  kind ;  as  a 
lively  interest  exists  on  the  subject  of  America 

bciii 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS. 


and  American  literature.  Your  best  way  is  to 
send  your  MSS.  to  Miller,  and  get  him  to  dispose 
of  them  to  the  best  advantage,  allowing  him  a 
percentage,  both  to  repay  him  for  his  trouble, 
and  to  make  it  worth  his  while  to  take  pains. 
He  is  fully  to  be  depended  upon.  The  terms 
with  the  most  popular  magazines  is  from  ten  to 
fifteen  or  twenty  guineas  a  sheet,  according  to 
the  merit  of  the  article  and  the  reputation  of 
the  author's  writings  before  they  make  any 
offer. 

I  have  handed  the  Conversations  on  the  Bible 
to  a  young  clergyman,  a  literary  character,  to 
read  them  and  report  on  them  ;  I  will  then  see 
if  I  can  do  any  thing  with  the  printers  about 
them.  There  is  such  an  inundation  of  work  for 
the  press,  however,  that  you  have  no  idea  of  the 
difficulty  of  getting  any  thing  looked  at  by  a 
publisher  unless  the  author  has  an  established 
name. 

The  Spy  is  extremely  well  spoken  of  by  the 
best  circles,  and  has  a  very  fair  circulation ;  not 
a  bit  better  than  it  deserves,  for  it  does  the 
author  great  credit.  The  selections  of  the 
American  poets  is,  I  believe,  by  one  of  the  Ros- 
coe  family;  the  poets  selected  from  are  Paulding, 
the  author  of  Yamoyden,  the  author  of  Fanny, 
Pierpont,  Bryant,  and  over  ten  others  whose 
names  do  not  at  present  occur  to  me. 

I  shall  leave  London  in  the  course  of  next 
week,  for  Aix  la  Ohapelle,  where  I  propose  re 
maining  some  time  to  take  the  water,  having 
been  out  of  health  for  nearly  a  year  past.  Any 
thing  you  wish  done  at  London,  however,  you 
will  be  sure  of  having  well  done  by  Mr.  Miller. 
In  sending  proof-sheets,  &c.,  do  not  send  through 
the  Post-office  or  Letter-bags,  for  the  postage 
would  then  amount  to  pounds  sterling,  and  the 
letters,  &c.,  remain  unclaimed.  Send  large  pack 
ets  by  private  hand. 

I  wish,  when  you  see  Mr.  Ewing,*  you  would 
remember  me  to  him,  as  an  old  friend  who 
would  not  willingly  be  forgotten  by  him.  Tell 
him  Anacreon  Moore  holds  him  in  honored 
remembrance.  I  am,  my  dear  sir, 

Very  sincerely,  your  friend, 

WASHINGTON  IKVING. 

JOHN  E.  HALL,  Esq., 
Editor  of  the  Port-Folio,  Philadelphia. 


Ixiv 


*  Samuel  Ewing,  Esq.,  of  Philadelphia. 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  IRVING. 

A  MEMOIR  of  Mr.  Irving  may  in  due  time  be 
expected.  His  entire  manuscripts  and  correspond 
ence  were  left  in  the  hands  of  Pierre  M.  Irving, 
who  is  admirably  adapted  to  the  task.  Such  a 
memoir  will  afford  early  sketches  of  New  York 
society,  and  the  first  attempts  of  American  liter 
ature;  it  will  bring  out  the  details  of  Mr.  Irving's 
life  when  abroad,  and  his  social  intercourse  with 
the  master-minds  of  Europe.  And  it  may  explain 
the  magic  of  that  power  which  subdued  the  fero 
cious  criticism  of  London  and  Edinburgh.  At 
the  time  of  Mr.  Irving's  first  publication  in  Eng 
land,  the  reviewer's  den  was  as  surrounded  with 
the  bones  of  American  authors,  as  Doubting  Gas- 
tie  was  with  those  of  the  pilgrims ;  but  old  Ebony 
became  tamed  by  the  Western  Orpheus,  and  re 
laxing  his  teeth,  explained  himself  by  a  figure 
from  Comus:  uThe  genius  of  Mr.  Irving  has 
smoothed  the  raven  down  of  censure  till  it 
smiled."  Such  a  volume  the  public  will  look 
for  with  eagerness  and  read  with  delight. 

We  have  alluded  to  the  high  character  of  Mr. 
Irving's  brothers,  and  need  only  add  that  it  was 
shared  by  three  sisters,  all  deceased.  One  of 
these  married  Henry  Van  Wart,  an  American 
merchant  residing  in  Birmingham,  England; 
another  was  married  to  the  late  Daniel  Paris, 
attorney  at  law,  and  the  third  accepted  the  hand 
of  Gen.  Dodge,  late  of  Johnstown,  and  now  rests 
by  his  side  in  the  old  cemetery  of  that  village. 

A  year  ago  Mr.  Irving  made  his  will.  It  was 
written  during  some  leisure  weeks  passed  in  the 
city  of  New  York.  As  he  proceeded  to  this  tinal 
duty,  it  would  seem  that  his  youth  and  boyhood 
came  before  him.  The  place  where  he  sat,  pen 
in  hand,  was  then  a  desolate  common,  two  miles 
distant  from  his  father's  rural  mansion  in  Wil 
liam-street.  He  remembered  early  acts  of  kind 
ness  and  generosity,  and  his  gushing  heart  pours 
out  its  utterances  of  affection.  None  but  he 
could  have  written  such  an  instrument,  and  none 
can  read  it  without  emotion.  It  was  penned  in 
some  sacred  hour  of  retrospect  and  farewell,  and 
its  details  should  be  sacred  from  the  public  gaze. 
Its  main  provisions  refer  to  the  establishment  of 
Sunnyside  as  a  permanent  abode  for  the  name 
and  house  of  Irving. 

*  Albany  Evening  Journal,  Dec.  9, 1859. 


THE   END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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